The Last Bastion

Estia pulled her green cloak tighter around her shoulders as a cold wind whipped through the forest. When she'd first entered the trees, she'd liked the pretty green of the sunlight that filtered through the huge trees above. Now, as dark fell, the green deepened and formed puddles of pure blackness in all directions. Every branch high above that shifted in the freezing gusts made the inky shadows dance, bringing to mind malicious wraiths or demons.
Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, the girl shivered as another ice-cold breeze made her cloak flutter behind her. Estia gathered it to her again. A sudden rustling noise in the bushes to her right made her jump, before she realized that it was just the wind in the shrubbery. Chiding herself for her skittishness, she started walking again. The crackling sound of her footsteps in the dried leaves of the forest floor were oddly comforting, as they drowned out the sound of tree branches creaking and rustling as the wind blew them from side to side.Estia simply put one foot in front of the other. Crackle.. Crackle... Crackle... Crackle-Crackle.

Estia froze. Her own footstep had been very clearly followed by another... which had definitely not belonged to her. Somewhere far off amidst the trees, she could now hear the continuing footsteps. Crackle... Crackle... Crackle... They were getting closer. Estia whirled to face the direction they'd been coming from... And found only empty forest. She waited a few moments, but the footsteps had ceased. Hesitantly now, Estia began walking again. Crackle... Crackle... Crackle...
The other footsteps were gone, now, but Estia wasn't convinced that all was well. Unobtrusively, she glanced to either side... and stiffened, her legs continuing to move but the rest of her body completely frozen. A silhouette, visible only because it moved, stood out in front of the deeper darkness of the forest to her right. It looked like a person, with the hood of their cloak up. The silhouette was moving up and down slightly with each footstep... and those footsteps were perfectly synchronized with Estia's own. The cloaked figure was traveling in the same direction as Estia, and didn't show any sign of realizing he'd been seen. The girl shuddered, and considered calling out; maybe it'd scare him off. It was true night now, and the darkness was an impenetrable wall. She stopped, still unsure what to do.

Crackle... Crackle... Crackle... The sound of footsteps on dead leaves continued, and Estia watched as the silhouette slowly drew ahead of her and then disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
~Still, I have to get through here. I can't turn back now,~ she thought. Despite her confusion and fear, Estia knew she had to keep going. She started walking once more. The forest seemed menacing all of a sudden, and each rustle in the bushes was no longer just the wind, but instead seemed like the movement of some unknown demon, stalking her. Estia briefly considered calling out, but her courage failed her. The crackling noise as her feet stirred the forest's dead leaves seemed far too loud. Surely whoever... or whatever... was out there could hear her.
There was a rustling noise directly behind her. Estia's scream froze in her throat, and she whirled to find... nothing there. Then a hand clamped itself over her mouth, stifling a second impulse to yell, and she felt a cold, thin blade come to rest against her neck.

"Why have you been following me?" The light male voice of the person behind her caught Estia off guard- she'd been expecting something like the rasp of a wraith or ghoul. The hand over her mouth moved slightly to let her speak. Frozen stiff with surprise and terror, she still managed to blurt out, "I wasn't."
Her captor was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "What are you doing in the forest at night, then? Didn't the villagers warn you that it's dangerous?"
Estia cursed her own foolishness. The people inhabiting the village she'd passed through on her way here had warned her, but she'd chosen not to pay attention. Their tales of strange creatures wandering the trees after dark had seemed like nothing more than superstition, and Estia had ignored them. "They warned me. I didn't listen."

More silence, this time stretching on for what seemed an eternity as Estia's tense muscles began to hurt. She forced herself to relax a little. Then her captor spoke again. "You're lucky, then, that you drew my attention first. There are things in this forest that you don't want to encounter if you can't tell when someone's sneaking up on you."
The knife at her throat disappeared, along with the hand over her mouth. Estia sighed with relief, then turned around slowly. Before her stood a cloaked figure. He was tall, a bit taller than Estia's own considerable five foot ten, but other than that no physical features could be made out through the deep gray robe and hood. A slight movement of the hood that could have been an inclining of his head, then he spoke again in the deep but gentle voice Estia had been so surprised by. "I would know what your business is." His speech patterns seemed odd somehow, antiquated or elevated. ~Could he be some sort of noble?~ Estia wondered. ~If so, he's the competent, worldly kind, and I haven't heard of many of those. Best I don't tell him anything.~

"...My business is my own." Estia didn't mean her words to sound so harsh, but they came out that way. Though the robed figure gave no visible reaction, Estia hastened to explain herself. "It's something I'd rather be kept secret, that's all. Why do you need to know?"
"I am... a warden of sorts. This forest is not my realm, yet I would know the motives of those around me, that I might keep safe that which I ward. If secrecy is what you desire, I will vow to speak of it to no one, if you will but tell me what brings you to this place during the night-time."
Estia dithered. She didn't really want to tell him why she was here, but he hadn't done anything to actually hurt her, and she also didn't want to be left alone in a forest that, as it turned out, wasn't safe at night. "...All right, then. The reason I'm here..." She stopped, unsure of how to continue.
"Well, I should probably start at the beginning."

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"Begin!"
As one, the children dashed from the starting line, intent on reaching the finish at the other side of the field. Immediately, though, several kids fell behind, simply because they were a bit slower. The field was a good three quarters of a league across, and the Teacher had chosen it for that reason.
Estia wasn't sure why the kids were doing this. The Teacher had his reasons, certainly, but he rarely shared them with her until after the fact. She smiled. That was simply the way he worked. No one knew the Teacher's real name: he was an old scholar who'd been traveling the realm, until, about three moons ago, for some reason he'd decided to settle down in Estia's village. He had proceeded to begin instructing the village's children who were too young to work, teaching them various subjects such as mathematics and reading, referring to the lessons as 'School.' He supplied his own books for those of his lessons that required them, penning many of the slim tomes himself. The villagers had decided, after discussing the matter in a council, to begin collecting a small sum to pay the venerable sage, ensuring that he need not work for a living as well as teach: few, if any, villages were lucky enough to have a learned man willing to teach peasant children for such a small fee, let alone at no charge.

Estia, however, had noticed that the Teacher sometimes had trouble keeping control of his young students. She herself had been only twenty years of age at that time, but she'd volunteered to help him manage the class, though that was all she could do-- she didn't have the knowledge necessary to help teach the class. Since then, she'd been perpetually amused, and somewhat mystified, by the sprightly old man, who kept the kids interested enough that before long they didn't need more than an occasional hushing from her. To Estia's chagrin, in the last two moons she'd learned at least as much as the children themselves, if not more.
"The first of them are almost at the finish line, Estia."
The young lady jumped, then grinned as she realized she'd been lost in thought. The Teacher's class tended to do that to her. She gazed out to the end of the field, where she saw that many of the kids had already slowed to a walk. Those who were still running were those who had fallen behind at the start.
The farmer whose field they were using came up beside Estia. "So this's why ya wanted my fallow land? Wouldn' ya be better off wit' makin' em do some real work, if ya just wanna' tire 'em out?"
Estia smiled at him. "Somehow, I don't think just tiring them out is the point. You're welcome to stick around... you just might learn something."
He gave her an odd look. "The school's for kids, ain't it? I got work to do. Well... Bye, sir." He tipped his wide-brimmed hat, a necessity for work in the heat of the summer, to the Teacher. "Ma'am." He repeated the gesture in Estia's direction, then trudged off.

The children, seeing that several of their number had already crossed the finish line, lost interest in the race. Most of those who hadn't made it to the line simply turned around and started walking back.
The first kid to return was one of the fastest in the class; he'd come in dead last. The boy was in a bit of a foul mood because he'd started with the expectation of winning the 'race.' The Teacher simply smiled and reminded him that it wasn't possible to win every time, and that he should set his standards lower. As the rest of the children began to arrive, all of them walking and complaining that their legs hurt, the Teacher nodded to Estia. She sat down and placed her palms together in front of her, which was a call for the kids to do the same. They sat cross-legged, staring up at the Teacher and waiting for his lesson.
"The point of this race was not to win, though congratulations to those who arrived first." Annoyed murmurs greeted this announcement. "Do you remember the book we read in class today? Who was it by, again, Estia?"
"A young man in the capital city, who writes books for the entertainment of nobles' children. I think his name was... Aesir?"
"Can you remember the story, children?"
A storm of chattering greeted this, quickly stopping as Estia placed her palms together again. The children who saw her quieted and did the same, until eventually all of the kids noticed. "One at a time," she told them with a smile. "Now, raise your hand if you would like to answer." Almost all the hands shot up. The Teacher smiled and selected one. The girl he'd chosen stood up and told him in a matter-of-fact tone:
"The story is about a hare who's faster than everyone, and challenges a tortoise to a race for fun. He goes really fast, but gets tired and slows down and falls asleep. Then the tortoise wins because he didn't get tired, even though he went really slow."
The Teacher smiled as dawning comprehension began to appear on the faces of some of his students. "Discuss this with each other, class. How is the story like the race we just ran? And what else, other than running, might it apply to?" As the kids turned to each other excitedly, eager to share what they'd figured out, Estia smiled at the Teacher. "That was very well done."
The old man smiled in return, the expression very grandfatherly. "It's my aim to teach everyone who attends my class, regardless of age. Thank you for all your help, Estia. Now, we had best get back to the village, it's nearly time for supper."
That evening, Estia dined on a loaf of somewhat stale bread, which she dipped in her village-famous vegetable stew to take the edge off its hardness. Retiring to her cot, she stared up at the straw ceiling of her simple hut and smiled contentedly as she drifted slowly into sleep's kingdom.

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Estia awoke to the sound of the town's alarm bell clanging. She gathered her sheets to her, frightened with good reason. If the village was under attack, no help would come; the nearest garrison of the realm's soldiers was a day's ride away. And if the force was more than a few bandits, the village's militia wouldn't be able to handle them. If the village was taken...
~Best not to think about that.~ Estia climbed to her feet, and slipped a simple green-dyed muslin dress on over her nightshift. Leaving her cottage and fearing the worst, she made her way around several other houses towards the center of town. Coming around the corner of the last small homestead, despite the gravity of her fears she was nonetheless astounded by the scene that met her eyes.

In the center of town, on the single large road that accommodated the occasional trader's wagon that passed through, two men faced each other from a long distance. One was young and handsome, dressed in a very expensive-looking purple-and-black cloak, and carrying a stave of some deep brown wood that bore a large gemstone. The clear gem glinted with many facets in the morning sun, hinting at extreme value.
The other man was the Teacher. He wore his usual undyed, pristine white cotton robe, and carried his leather-wrapped walking staff, the mundane weapon looking pathetic compared to the ornate armament the other man held. Estia was about to cry out to him to run, but froze when the finely attired man down the road threw out a hand in a theatrical fashion.
"Ha! Craven excuse for a caravan magician! Did you truly believe that you would be safe hiding in this pathetic little village?" He laughed, a jagged sound that made Estia cringe. "I will raze it to the ground to punish your cowardice... and you will watch, helpless! Witness, old man, as this girl dies." His laughter took on a truly dangerous edge. Estia still didn't understand who he could be talking to. Her village didn't have anyone with magic... Not since old Tabitha, who used to sell weakly enchanted herbal remedies, passed away. The well-dressed young man, ranting about a 'magician,' was clearly mad, and worse, from the sound of it he was a mage himself. As he raised a hand to point at Estia, she turned to run...

Estia gasped in shock and missed her footing as a wave of searing heat swept past from behind her. Throwing up an arm to shield her eyes, she turned again as she fell, only to see a roaring torrent of fire racing towards her. She closed her eyes as, in the space of a split second, the heat went from painful to unbearable...
Then the pain disappeared, to be replaced with the relatively mild sensation of a sunburn. Peeking tentatively through slitted eyelids, she froze in terror as an opaque wall of flames raged inches from her face. An unseen barrier seemed to stop them there, and not even the slightest heat passed through it. A few seconds passed, each one seeming like it lasted forever. Then the flames simply died away. The only sign that they had existed was a path of scorched earth running between Estia and the smirking young mage.
"Ha, ha!" His laugh was pleasant, at odds with his obvious ruthlessness. "What's she to you, then, that you'd protect her, huh? You sick old man." His leer made it plain what he thought, and despite her terror and confusion Estia bristled. She wasn't sure what all this meant, and it was clear the Teacher was more than he had seemed, but there was one thing clear about this antagonistic young man.
"Whoever your parents are, they did a poor job of raising you with a civil tongue. What this man has done for us is worth more than all the gems your money can buy you."

From the well-dressed mage's poorly concealed reaction, Estia could see she'd struck a nerve. So it was with many who had money, as she'd seen at one point when the town's mayor had decided to take a piece out of an uppity squire to a visiting knight. The strutting peacock in front of her was no different, and he spluttered for a moment at this implication of having a shallow nature before masking his anger with contempt.
"My, my, how she defends you. What manner of spell lets such a decrepit old creature so capture a peasant girl's heart? I would like nothing more than to have learned that cantrip from you before you died, but my orders are perfectly clear." He smiled cruelly, and raised his staff in the Teacher's direction. Estia's cry died in her throat, and she did nothing but cower back in her doorway as a torrent of coruscating orbs rose from the large diamond at the top of the mage's stave and flew towards the frail-looking old man. The Teacher did nothing except to lean slightly on his leather-wrapped walking staff. Estia couldn't bear to watch the much-loved old instructor wiped from the face of the earth, and she shut her eyes tightly.

There was a blinding flash, and the sound of an explosion from Estia's right. The girl opened her eyes slowly, until they widened of their own accord. A slightly smoking crater was all that was left of the cruel, well-dressed man. The Teacher stood, unharmed, a short distance away from Estia. He looked tired, more tired than Estia had ever seen him, even after a long day teaching his class. He leaned heavily on the walking staff, but something was different about the stick. The leather was gone, and underneath was revealed a gnarled, deep brown staff, tapering to a rounded end which was firmly planted in the dirt. The top was a knobbly swirl of wood, with a small, bright green gemstone set in the middle of it. Realizing she was staring at it, Estia tore her eyes from the gem and met the Teacher's eyes. He smiled sadly.
"This is a lesson I had hoped I would never teach to this village. Power draws power, and once accepted, no power can be truly given up." His eyes held profound sadness. "That man brought with him a group of mercenaries, who are even now looting the village. I can do little to stop them from here." He turned abruptly and began to walk towards the small plumes of smoke that were rising from the western edge of the village. Estia bit her lip. "So is this goodbye?"
He paused. "Yes. Now that the Circle knows I was hiding here, I cannot stay. To do so would put this entire village in great peril." He stared out over the buildings to where the smoke thickened. "There is no time," he sighed. "Goodbye, Estia. Thank you for everything." He raised his gnarled walking staff, and was gone.
Estia sat in her doorway for a long while, watching the smoke twist upwards into the puffy clouds. A few explosions attested to the Teacher's efforts to rid the town of the unsavoury men who had come to harm it. As she finally got to her feet, the smoke ceased, the fires having burnt themselves out or been doused. She would go to help tend the inevitable injuries soon enough, but for now the thought was simply too depressing. No matter how soon she arrived at the scene, the Teacher would be gone, and with him the village's privilege of an instructor for their children. But for some reason, that seemed less important than the simple fact that he was gone.
So Estia simply wandered for a while, content to walk away from the numbing shock of the morning's ordeal.

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"I eventually went to help. There were a lot of people with burns from trying to fight the fires, and a few more who'd gotten injured trying to defend their homes from the looters. The bastards killed the apprentice woodcrafter because he wouldn't give them the key to his master's strong-box, and the baker's youngest son simply because... because he was in the... in the way."
Tears rolled down Estia's cheeks. "I guess it doesn't matter now. It didn't end up being just them, in the end, anyways."

The cloaked man had not moved at all while Estia told the first part of her story. Now, his hood moved slightly in what could have been a shake of the head. "It matters." His tone was still light rather than deep, yet he spoke slowly, and despite the lightness of his voice, it conveyed as much emotion as if it were an expressive bass. "I... need you to continue. I am sorry to make you relive these events, if that is any comfort."
Estia shook her head, wiping away her tears. "I think I need to talk about this just as much as you need to hear it. I haven't spoken of this to anyone since..." Her voice trailed off, and she murmured to herself, "It's been a long time."
The cloaked figure turned its head slightly to regard her. "...It is wise of you to recognize the need to speak."
Estia shook her head again, this time in disagreement. ~Whatever else I am, I'm not wise. If I were...~ She took a deep breath, trying to smooth out the shudders that remained from her fit of sobbing.

"Nothing happened for a while. It was about a moon and a half after the Teacher... I never found out his real name... left. That was when it all started for real."

This is really good so far. It's got mystery and action and everything. It really draws you in! Dragon want moar!

(And moar you shall have! ...Btw, it turned dark. Then it turned wierd AND dark. Then it turned dark again, both figuratively and literally.)
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The trees were changing color outside as summer faded into autumn. Estia sighed and lifted her head listlessly from her wool-stuffed pillow to look out the window, then let it fall again. The village was in a bustle of activity as the harvest season began, but Estia's usual work-- weaving and knitting things like clothes and blankets-- was only in great demand in the cold of late autumn and winter. Estia supposed she could make some coin for now by weaving baskets for the harvest, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to rise and set about any kind of work.
Estia smiled slightly, the melancholy expression a mere shadow of her usual bright grin. The truth was that, when she had worked with the Teacher, she had found a line of work that called to her, more than a loom and spinning wheel ever could. To teach children, to use education to give them the clarity of knowledge and a brighter future... The work the Teacher had done resonated deeply with Estia, and she wished she could continue it.

~But I'm not a... a teacher. I'm a peasant girl who can't even read, let alone teach kids to love it as much as I do.~ The Teacher had done that. He had made reading, writing and learning into things that the children wanted to do, in some mysterious way that Estia couldn't even begin to imitate. Maybe it was magecraft... but Estia thought that it might have had less to do with the arcane magic the Teacher wielded, and more to do with a more mundane type of magic.
~If only...~

Her listless thoughts were interrupted by a shout from outside. "Hey, Estia... Could I get a hand with something?" Estia let out an exasperated sigh. That would be Kai, a young man of twenty who was apprenticed to the village butcher. He'd been hanging around Estia's home a lot lately, trying to invite her to join him in this activity or that one. His motive was painfully obvious, but Estia had humoured him so far. That was about to change.
Swinging her feet out of bed, ignoring the fact that she was wearing only a short cotton nightshift, Estia walked across the small main room of her cottage and jerked open the door. Kai, waiting a short distance from the door, goggled at her for a moment, then blushed furiously, averting his eyes, though the garment was thick enough not to actually reveal anything. "...Is this a bad time? My sister is learning to spin fabric as well as weave it, and she thought maybe you could..."

Most days, Estia would have smiled politely and said she'd talk to his sister later, then sent him on his way. Today, however, an ugly feeling rose from deep in her gut, and she found herself glaring at the awkward young man.
"Can't you take a hint?" Estia closed the distance between herself and Kai in several large steps, until she was standing aggressively in his face. She jabbed a finger into his chest. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with you showing up every day like a lovesick puppy. I like and respect your sister, but if she wants my help, she can come visit like a civil person and ask me herself!" She turned the sharp poke into a shove, and Kai stumbled back, off balance and looking like someone had just punched him in the face. He blinked once or twice, as if holding back tears, then straightened his back stiffly. Estia, refusing to let up, scowled at him. "Is that clear?"
"Y-...Yes, miss Estia, I'll... I'll tell my sister she should contact you directly." The words sounded strained. "...I'm... I'm sorry if I gave offense...!" Kai's voice broke on the last word, and he turned and walked away a little faster than was strictly polite. Estia felt a sudden, strong pang of guilt. He was barely more than a boy, really, and she'd just hurt him badly enough to make him cry. Having known Kai since they were both children, no more distantly than the small population of the village would allow, Estia knew he didn't break down that easily. Even as he left, he had hidden his tears so she wouldn't have to see how painful her words had really been.
~What came over me?~ Estia thought with sudden horror. ~Am I really that cruel? How could I ever deal with children if I can't even behave like an adult with people my own age?~ She looked up, but Kai was gone. And Estia knew she could never unsay what she'd said, regardless of her ill temper at the time.
"...I'm sorry, Kai," she whispered regretfully. Inside, she was kicking herself. The Teacher had once given his class a reading lesson involving a simple folk tale in which a young noble had found himself suddenly penniless and relying upon the servants he'd taken out his anger on when he'd had a bad day. The story told how each servant abandoned him except for the young woman who cooked his family's meals, who showed him kindness despite his previous harsh words and his sudden poverty. By the end of the tale the noble had realized that he himself was to blame for his manor's staff abandoning him, and had undergone a change of heart. And of course, he married the kitchen girl. But for the first half of the story, he was not a likable person in the least.
Estia felt tears run down her face. ~Is that who I am? Did I really not pay any attention to the real meaning of the Teacher's lesson?~

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Kai avoided Estia for the rest of that day, going out of his way to keep out of her sight. Occasionally she'd see him ducking behind a building to take another route home from his afternoon's errands, and would feel that same pang of guilt. His younger sister, Irene, approached Estia partway through the afternoon to ask for help with her spinning. Estia accepted, aware of the unspoken question in the young woman's eyes. Why was my brother trying not to cry when he returned from your house this morning? Estia was relieved that the girl didn't ask her in any way that she'd actually have to answer, and hated herself for that relief.
Still, life would go on whether Estia felt bad about her mistake or not, and she had to go and buy the strong straw she would plait to make baskets. These she would sell to farmers and housewives for their trips to and from market with the fruits of the autumn harvest. The everyday workings of the village went on as usual... but something in the air was different, and Estia noticed that most of the villagers kept looking over their shoulders without fully realizing why. Maybe the odd feeling had something to do with the increased traffic through the village at harvest time, but that in itself was not unusual. Perhaps, instead, it had more to do with the hooded and brown-cloaked figure who stood in the town center, simply watching from the middle of a small crowd, as the steady trickle of merchants and travelers passed through the small village square. He was noticeable simply because he stood still when every other person in the square was moving... but even as she noticed him, Estia nearly forgot he was there, her attention sliding off of him far too easily. She forced herself to focus, and stared at the person... whose hooded head turned and stared back, though she couldn't see the eyes that met hers. A sensation a lot like being doused in cold water ran through Estia's body, and she stumbled back, nearly knocking down a traveler with a walking staff. He shoved her away and moved on as if nothing had happened. Estia shuddered and looked back at the crowds, searching for the brown cloak again, but try as she might she couldn't seem to find it.

"...Estia?" It was Irene, Kai's sister. "Are you busy at the moment?"
Estia shook her head, and tried to forget the mysterious figure. It probably was just someone passing through, trying to stay unnoticed for reasons of his own. "No, Irene, I'm not busy. Did you want me to help you now?"
"Yes, please..." Irene's eyes were huge. Estia wondered for a moment how the girl could still manage the 'defenseless and adorable' look at the age of nineteen, then realized that it came naturally to Irene. She really was that innocent.
The village was small enough that crossing it to get to Irene and Kai's house took barely two minutes, and Irene practically danced into the sitting room in full high spirits. Since the home was owned by an entire family, it was much larger than Estia's little cottage, but that was as it should be. It even had a proper kitchen, with an expensive metal wood-burning stove. Irene showed Estia her new spinning wheel, and demonstrated that she'd already figured out how to work it. Estia spent the next hour or so showing the girl how to slowly feed raw wool onto the wheel so that it would come out as a neat roll of cloth.
~It feels the same as instructing a child,~ Estia thought to herself. ~But is that because Irene is still young at heart, for all she's only a few years younger than me? Or is it because of all the time I've spent helping the Teacher? Are people all just kids, deep down, wanting to learn new things...?~
Her musings as she watched Irene try weaving on her own for the first time were interrupted as Kai came thumping through the house's front door, into the next room. "I'm home! Is that you on the spinning wheel again, Irene-" His voice cut off, and Estia looked up. He had stopped at the door to the room, and was now looking at the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Oh. Hi, miss Estia. Thanks for helping my sister." His gaze cast about on the ground, as if looking for something to fix itself on, then he suddenly turned and fled. Estia felt another pang of guilt as Irene stared at her with those wide eyes.
"Estia...?"
"What?" Estia didn't mean to sound so harsh, but Irene flinched. Still, the girl persisted.
"...Did he say something rude?"
"...No, he was perfectly civil, if a bit... rambunctious."
"Huh?"
Estia smiled slightly to herself. She'd picked up all sorts of long words even in the short time she'd worked with the Teacher. "It means he was very energetic." The half-smile faded. "I just got annoyed with him 'cause I was tired and he was being loud," she told Irene reassuringly. The half-truth tasted sour in Estia's mouth.
Irene smiled that innocent smile, and patted Estia tentatively on the arm. "He's always like that in the morning. So much energy! Dad isn't a morning person, so he gets in fights with Kai all the time."
"Mmmm." Estia nodded half-heartedly, then stood from where she sat. "Well, I'd best get going, those baskets won't make themselves. If you need help again, don't hesitate to ask."
Irene stood too. "Oka-"


The girl stopped suddenly, her mouth still open. She was staring at something behind Estia. Acting on a sudden instinct, Estia grabbed Irene by the shoulder and dove to one side, pulling the young woman down with her. Something whistled by to her left, where the two had been standing. The sound was followed by an explosion as the projectile struck the spinning wheel and exploded. Irene, who had fallen partly on top of Estia, gasped slightly. Estia struggled to turn around, and freed her hand from beneath the girl. It came away covered with sticky red liquid. Estia stared at it uncomprehendingly, and lifted Irene by one shoulder. The girl moaned, and Estia saw a huge shard of white oak from the spinning wheel lodged in her side. Irene whimpered, then slipped out of Estia's grasp, collapsing amongst the remains of the chair Estia had been sitting on.
"Not bad reflexes." The raspy voice sounded like it could easily belong to some demon or monster. "Pity about the girl. She'd have been fun to... play with." Estia whirled, terror and rage warring for prominence on her face. Across the room from her was a man wearing a deep brown cloak that she recognized. The hood was down this time, revealing a sunken, pallid white face on the front of a bald head so skeletal that it looked barely human. The man's features were set in a cruel leer, one which currently had a bit of an annoyed scowl to it as well. "You would, too, but I'm supposed to 'kill her and nothing else.' Orders are orders..." Still leering, he licked his lips suggestively.
"Well," he rasped, "you're not much to look at, but that old man must've seen something in you. Must've, if the superiors think killing you will get 'im mad. Or maybe just burning the rest of the village'll do that." His eyes shifted madly from place to place, ceasing to rest on Estia and instead seeming to take in everything but her.
"Still, orders are orders, yes... gotta' kill you now." He advanced slowly, eyes still darting. "...Orders are orders. Heh. Orders. Disgusting thing, order. I prefer a good bit of chaos, myself. Nice, cleeean chaos, without all those ulterior motives. Just the one motive with chaos, mmmmmyes... Hee hee hee hee HEE!!!!" The rasp of the voice turned into a screeching giggle that set Estia's teeth on edge. Quietly, she felt around on the remaining intact chair behind her until she grasped a long, blunt shard of wood lying on the seat. She picked it up. It might not kill him, but she'd sure as hell give this insane mage a bruise before she died.
"You don't want to hit me, girl... It'll only go the worse for you, yes... hee hee-"
He was cut off by a yell behind him, followed by a thrown chair slamming into him from behind. He crashed into the wreckage to Estia's right, which was a jagged mess of broken spokes from the spinning wheel. Estia, her heart racing, allowed herself a sigh of relief- surely he couldn't have survived that.
"...hee hee hee hee..." An insane giggle emanated from the pile of wood, quickly growing into a loud, frighteningly crazy laugh. Hee hee hee HEE HEE HEE HA HA HA HAAAA!! Did you think your sharp wooden things could hurt me? I am as a god to you, weaklings! Bow down! Bow before me, mmmyes! Yes, hee hee hee hee hee... HA HA HA HA HA...!" He rose from the wreckage, cackling madly. There were a number of holes in his robes, including a few over his heart -- if he had one-- but there was only pallid, uninjured skin visible through those holes.
"Estia?" Kai sounded a bit odd, which was understandable. "Estia..."
Estia growled quietly to herself. Guilty as she felt about how she'd treated Kai, she really didn't need a 'before we die' confession of love right now. She was more interested in figuring out a way for them both to survive this. She glanced at him again, and blinked at the strange expression on his face.
"Estia... Run."
Then he dashed forward, and tackled the insane mage, who was still cackling. "HA HA HA HA HA- OOF!"
Estia ran. What else could she do? ~Stupid, idiot kid! He could've run away! He could've lived...!~ There was a muffled explosion from behind her as Estia dashed out the door. She flinched, then turned to gape in horror as a pillar of fire gouted from the roof of Irene and Kai's house. In the gathering twilight, the leaping flames turned the sky purple.
"...KAI!!" She collapsed to her knees, bringing her empty fist down on the ground. It hurt.

"Aww, is the simple village girl crying over her heroic boyfrieeend?"
The voice was abrasive, in the same way that the crazy mage's demonic rasp had been, even if it sounded more human. It also sounded very female, in the worst possible way.
"Well, don't worry, girl! You'll be joining him veeeery soooooon~!" The last two words were delivered in the same sickly-sweet, nasal tone, with an added sing-song lilt for good measure. Estia ground her teeth with rage. The voice alone would be annoying, but what it was saying was close to pushing her over the edge.
"Aww, come on, get angry already! Just going limp like that isn't much fu-" The words were cut off as Estia whirled, bringing along the wooden club she still held. It impacted the side of its target's head solidly, striking with a satisfying crunch. Estia, shaking with anger mixed with horror at what she'd just done, dropped the weapon and stood up straight. She took a deep breath, trying to get her frayed nerves under control.
"Oooops. She was angry after all. It's a nice cold rage, too. Tasty!" Impossibly, the person Estia had hit was getting up, giggling slightly. Estia finally got her first glimpse of the girl who'd been taunting her. She stood a bit higher than Estia's own exceptionally tall (for a woman) five foot ten, but her face was, like her voice, sickeningly cutesy and young-looking. Her hair seemed to be coated in some kind of oil that gathered it into spikes, which rained down on all sides of her head including the front. The spikes reached almost to her waist, in places, but she didn't seem to care- they evidently didn't restrict movement.
The girl carried herself with a kind of lazy grace, one hand at her side, the other hanging from a limp wrist that swayed back and forth in front of her. She wore a form-fitting body suit of some kind of smooth black fabric that would have had any girl writhing with envy under normal circumstances. Estia hated girls who showed off their bodies, though her own was not too shabby.
The girl smiled, a too-pretty smile which, like everything else about her, set Estia's teeth on edge. "Oh, did you think I was down for the count? Sorryyyy! Nice crunching noise, though, too bad only one of my ears was intact to hear it." Her face was completely unmarred, showing no sign that it had ever been caved in by a makeshift club. "I wonder if you'll survive that as well as I did?"

Estia's only warning was the words- the girl's graceful body didn't show any warning sign, or even any movement, until her arm, now held stiffly straight with its fingers flat, swished across at Estia's head in a horizontal swipe. Estia barely ducked in time as the arm, flying overhead, keened like a metal blade as it swept through the air. The girl, laughing sweetly, effortlessly reversed the swipe, and Estia was forced to throw herself backwards to avoid the backswing. Time seemed to move more slowly suddenly, and Estia noted, as the girl's hand swished past her face, that both hands were actually clad with metal gloves of some sort, rather than simply black leather as she'd first thought. These greaves bore wickedly sharp blade edges along the sides of the palm, and tapered to a stabbing point at the middle finger position. Estia landed on her back, having narrowly avoided having her neck slit. She scooted backwards as the black-clad girl stopped and cocked her head with an insolent smile. Then the smile turned evaluating. "Hmm... Not bad. Get up. Let's see how you handle... this."
Estia, who had taken her chance to get up when the girl had started talking, immediately dodged to the right, barely avoiding a thrust of the hand-blade. Even so, it slashed through a thin layer of Estia's sensible green dress near her lower ribcage on the left. If Estia had been just a bit slower, she would have been impaled entirely. She gulped.
Moving with an instinct she didn't know she had, Estia dodged again, this time downwards and to the left, avoiding another lightning-fast thrust. The black-clad girl giggled slightly as she jabbed again and again, Estia only barely staying ahead and backpedaling the whole time. Then the flurry stopped. Estia blinked, then her eyes widened as she looked up to see the girl swinging her arm in an exaggerated horizontal haymaker.

Estia wasn't sure what happened next. She ducked the arm as it flew overhead. Then, some sixth sense made her grab it with her left hand as she popped back up. She brought her right arm up, too, high overhead, and slammed her right fist down on the stiffened elbow... which broke.
"Wheeee!!!" The arm was torn from Estia's grasp, and the girl giggled as she danced backwards, ending up a good ten feet away. "Very good, very good!" She started clapping, her elbow apparently completely repaired in a matter of seconds. "Most people don't even last the first two strikes! The blade wielders around here are all wimps!" Her face turned pensive, though it retained its perpetual mocking smile. "You know, I've decided I like you. If I didn't have orders to kill someone matching your description on sight, I might have taken a page from Vrynos's book. And 'had some fun before you kill 'em,' if you know what I mean." She giggled as Estia involuntarily recoiled at the thought. "Buuuut, maybe you don't lean that way anyways. Hence the dead boyfriend."
She indicated Kai and Irene's house, which was now burning. "Just so you know, Vrynos is the crazy one you met in there. He's rude, and he probably didn't introduce himself." Apparently realizing her hypocrisy, she grinned that too-sweet grin. "Oh, and I'm Kyyyyra! K-Y-R-A, only you can use as many Y's as you like! Got it mem-or-iiiized?"

Estia, smothering the no doubt suicidal impulse to rush at the infuriating, deadly girl, looked from one side to the other, wondering if she could escape around the edge of a building. As if reading her mind, or at least her body language, Kyra's grin turned mischievous. "You don't reallllly think you could outrun me, do ya? C'mon, I think you're just barely that smart, at least." She tapped a finger on her chin, somehow not drawing blood, and Estia realized the girl could separate her fingers- the blade simply locked together when she held her hand flat.
"Now, I do really have to kill you. Though I'd rather not... I don't find a lot of people who can dodge me for that long, and it's fun to play with you." She pouted now, effortlessly looking like a petulant child. Then her sickly-sweet smile reappeared like a lamp being lit. "I know! Let's play a game! It's like tag: you run, and I'll catch you. Only you get a biiig head start. Say... a day? 'Course, if I catch you, I have to kill you, 'k? 'K. It's like hide and seek, too, I guess, 'cause you can hide if you find someplace good enough. Good to know we both understand the rules! Now get running!"

Estia didn't need telling twice, and she dashed for the corner of the nearest house. She wasn't sure she'd understood every bit of the girl's ramblings, but she gathered that someone had sent both Vrynos and Kyra to kill her. Or maybe just to destroy the village, with an extra provision for Estia's death. Remembering Vrynos's words, she realized that this was all somehow an attempt to make the Teacher angry. She shivered. Even if the Teacher did turn out to be a powerful wizard or some such, it sounded like the kind old man had enemies in high places. Then Estia stopped thinking about that, because she came around the corner of the house and nearly stopped dead. Only the reminder that she had to get as far away as she could in one day kept her moving.
Almost the entire village was burning. The square, some distance ahead of her, was filled with bodies. Tinkling, angelic laughter, like bells given voice, sounded from somewhere far to her left... followed by a massive explosion. The laughter continued, and Estia shivered, letting her path veer away from the sound and into the nearest cluster of houses. She continued to hide in the spaces between cottages as she worked her way to the edge of the village. Everywhere she could see signs of destruction, and she came across more than a few bodies. She avoided looking at the faces- in a village this small, almost everyone knew each other. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but recognize a few people.
Little Patricia, the neighbors' little girl who always wore pink, and liked to bring back flowers for Estia whenever she went gathering herbs with her father. Estia couldn't miss her body, sitting in the middle of the path with a darker red stain slowly spreading across her favourite pink dress. Estia turned aside, unable to bear the idea of approaching and running past her.
A bit further, and she came upon a body who could only be Carl, the always-smiling old man who ran the town's small inn and loved to hear travelers' stories and then retell them to anyone who would listen. Estia got an inadvertent glimpse of his face. The ever-present smile was gone-- the old man's features had been twisted into a rictus of pain and then frozen in death.

Shuddering and weeping quietly, Estia finally broke free from the scattering of huts and came to her own home, which was the last cottage before the village ended and the sparse forest to the west began. She stopped inside long enough to pick up her pack and stuff it with clothing, and grab the small pouch of saved coin she kept hidden in the folds of her cot's mattress. Finishing what she could, she paused, then carefully crossed to her beloved loom, which bore a nearly-finished fabric tapestry depicting an evening sky with several travelers sitting on logs around a warmly glowing fire. It still lacked the ends of two of the logs, but it could easily have been taken for a finished work. Sitting down at her stool, she wove a single line of weft fibres, sealing it off with a tiny knot. This way, the piece wouldn't fray over time, or at least not as quickly. She gathered up the tapestry, and cut the warp and weft threads binding it to the loom. She stowed that in her pack as well.

She would have liked to stop awhile, and say goodbye to the old cottage and her loom, but she simply didn't have time. Overhead, the sky was darkening, and Estia wasn't sure whether 'a day' meant until the next morning or until the same time the next day. Either way, she had a limited amount of time to run as far as she could and hide herself as best she might.
As night slowly began to fall, Estia trudged away from a burning town, crying softly.

(First thought: Aww, poor Kai. Estia's mean. D:
Second thought: OH MY GOD, INSANE PEOPLE. They kinda remind me of Solpheros, only cooler.
Third thought: GODDAMN KYRA'S AWESOME.
Last thought: Ima cry nao kthx)

Estia sat in the corner of the tavern, at an empty table. The table's lack of plates or mugs revealed a battered surface, dented and stained. The young woman stared at the ridges and bumps of the wood, tiredness weighing on her mind like lead. It was after midnight, but she'd limped into town barely half a bell ago. The town was prosperous enough to have a bell of its own in the square, and it had rung the hour as she sat at her seat, trying to ignore the painful blisters that had appeared on her feet during the long walk through the thin woods.
"Hey, why the long face?" A deep voice spoke, too close and too loud. A wave of beer-smelling hot air washed over Estia's face as she winced and looked up at the man who was speaking to her. He was huge, his shoulders probably almost as wide as Estia's armspan, and his limbs, one of which held a half-empty tankard, were almost entirely hard muscle. "You won't get many customers looking so down, huh?" The man's leer and his drunken grin indicated that he thought Estia was here to make money in a less than honest fashion. She scowled darkly, feeling that unfamiliar, ugly cold rage rising within her. Here, finally, was someone she could take it out on. She regarded him coolly.
"I'm in no mood for such a 'mistake,' sir. I am not what you seem to think I am. If you do not leave my table immediately, so help me I shall do damage that will ensure that you never have children."

Looking confused now, but apparently too drunk to actually understand what Estia was saying, the man frowned. "Wha'ever. Now c'mere..." A groping hand reached for Estia's chest.
Estia gasped in shock, her rage suddenly gone as if it had never been there. Panicking, she recoiled and grabbed his wrist with her left hand, knowing that if the huge drunken man decided to have his way with her, she could do nothing to stop him. But somehow, as soon as her fingers closed around his forearm, the man's hand stopped. He frowned again, and pushed his hand forward. Estia, as surprised as he was, also pushed, and the groping hand started to move away from her body.
"Wha'?" The drunkard blinked, and then his frown turned into a dark scowl. "Nob'dy makes a fool outta' Big Rig tha stonehauler!" Howling incoherently, he swung his free fist at Estia. Throwing up her right arm, which looked pathetically flimsy compared to the huge blunt weapon that was the man's fist, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for, at best, a whole lot of pain.

A shock ran through her entire body, sourced in her outstretched right arm. She opened her eyes, and gasped along with several of the man's friends who'd turned to watch as soon as he tried to grab her. Two of them, big working men like her attacker, murmured to each other. Estia caught a couple of words.
"...stopped Big Rig's punch like 'twas nothin'..."
"...she a witch or aught?"
The man's fist had been brought to a halt a few inches from Estia's head, stopped dead by her arm. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and she released his captive left hand as he stumbled backwards and fell down.
"Witch! Witchcraft! That wom'n is dangerous!"

The rest of the inn quieted as the words, even slurred by beer, cut through the general din. The hush seemed ominous, and Estia shivered as she got to her feet from the chair she had not even left. The various patrons of the inn, most of them not so drunk as the man Big Rig, looked at her with equal parts fear and awe, as if expecting her to reply to the large man's insult with some kind of deadly magic. Well, she might as well play the part, even if she had no magic as such.
Estia drew herself up to her full, considerable (for a woman) height, and scowled. "Let this be a lesson to you: assuming the worst of a woman, or anyone for that matter, can get you in trouble. And, uhh... drinking is bad. At least when you do too much of it." Estia winced inwardly at the awkwardness of her words, feeling as if her lesson had fallen completely flat. Yet, the patrons seemed to be paying attention. "Uhh, that's all. I don't want any trouble, so I'll be on my way now."
Trying not to hurry despite the disconcerting feeling of so many eyes on her-- Estia had never been the focus of any large group in her life-- the young woman walked to the door, ignoring Big Rig and his coworkers as she passed them. Reaching the door of the inn, Estia kept walking slowly until she was out of sight. Then she ran, her accursed green dress flapping in the wind. At least it wasn't dragging around her feet, which would have made her earlier trek through the woods impossible, instead of just unbearable.

Even so, she was really only a short distance away from the burning ruins of her village, and Estia fought tears as her subconscious finally allowed it to sink in: everything she knew and loved was probably gone forever. With an angry sob, she threw that thought forcibly into a dark corner of her mind, refusing to let it get in her way. She had to survive, and that was all that mattered for now. Time enough for grief later.
As if the walls of the tavern had kept them at bay, doubts began to assail her. Could she ever get far enough away to escape that dangerous girl, Kyra? ~She can probably move faster than me, and from what I can tell, she has the patronage of someone important or at least rich. She's got more strings to pull.~ What chance did she have against an enemy who was better in every way? And why was it that she, specifically, had been singled out to kill?
Too many questions-- Estia threw them aside as well, cluttering them together in the back of her mind to examine when she had the time. Survival first, questions later.

Estia's feet had taken her to the town center. What she would do there, she didn't know, but something told her that it was the best place to be, even despite the pitch-black night. Reaching the small, ten-foot bell tower, she leaned against it, shivering as the cold stones chilled her back. Looking around, wondering why she felt she should be here, she shrugged to herself. Here was as good as any place-- she couldn't go back to the inn, anymore, and no family would take in a traveler who came to their doorstep after midnight asking for lodging.
"So I was right. Thank you for coming." The male voice from directly above her made Estia jump, and she whirled, holding out her hands as some scant protection from whoever had sneaked up on her. On the ledge of the bell tower was a dimly visible figure, who seemed to be standing next to the bell. She squinted up at him, and he seemed to notice her difficulty in seeing.
"Ah, how rude of me. Some light, but not too much, lest the townspeople notice." He made a sudden movement, and Estia flinched, but nothing happened... until a small white orb appeared in the man's hand, and he made a gentle throwing motion. The orb drifted to hover between Estia and the bell tower, and in its light she could now see him clearly.
He was of middle age, neither ugly nor especially handsome. A thin brown beard ran across his chin from his straight hair of the same colour, which despite his age did not seem to be balding. He wore a robe of the same brown as his hair, lending his entire appearance a look of simple unity. He was looking back at Estia, sizing her up in the same cautious way that she was appraising him. Suddenly aware that she had been wearing the same green dress for almost an entire day and night, and that it was torn in a couple places by the forest's brambles and the dangerous girl Kyra's blades, Estia shifted from one foot to the other self-consciously.

"Who are you? And..." Estia found herself with so many questions that she found she couldn't coherently identify any specific one. "...Well, who are you?" She repeated lamely.
"I?" The man's voice and face were guarded, as if unsure what was safe to give away. "I am but a resident of this town, like any other... except that I am unknown to most. What I wish to know, is, who are you? A young wizardess I have never before met, or even sensed, entering my town without so much as pinging me?"
Estia gulped. She'd somehow managed to offend, or at least put on his guard, a wizard who lived in the town, without even doing anything. Except effortlessly fighting off a drunk three times your size, a traitorous, matter-of-fact part of her mind told her. But... Wizardess? Wasn't that the same as a witch? Was everyone in this town going to accuse her of witchcraft? "My name is Estia, but...Forgive me, sir, but I'm no witch. I don't have magic."
The man frowned, confusion evident on his face, replacing the guarded suspicion. "But... There is power within you, and..." Then his look of confusion twisted into one of astonishment. "...and yet it is not... But then, how did you detect my beacon, and know how to follow it?" He shook his head, staring at Estia in a similar way to the villagers in the tavern room, only with curiosity instead of fear or mistrust. "I have so many questions..."
Estia blinked, then gulped again. "...Believe me, so do I. But I don't know what you mean about a beacon. I just got a feeling I should come here, when I left the inn... so I did."

The man's suspicious look disappeared entirely, to be replaced with mixed curiosity and trepidation. "This is something I have never encountered before." He glanced around the square, and his light dimmed slightly, as if he were suddenly worried that someone might be watching.
"I do not wish to intrude if you have somewhere to go, but if you wish to stay here a short while, might I offer you a place of rest? I should like to hear your story, or at least some of it."
Estia hesitated, unsure if she should trust him... but she didn't exactly have many options. She could accept help, or she could continue as she had been, without a plan, goal or any other information. Wizards knew things-- everyone said so. Maybe he would share something with her that would help her decide how she would live through the next... however long it took to escape whoever was after her.
And she wanted to learn about magic. The wizard had said she had it, or something like it, and surely he knew more about this magic stuff than she did. Even if he did say it was something he'd never encountered before. And if she could use magic, she might be able to someday protect herself, and the people she cared about, from enemies like Kyra and Vrynos...

All in all, Estia's mind was as good as made up for her. "Certainly, I'll stay. I haven't got any other options. Where...?" She looked around, wondering where the shelter the man had mentioned might be.
"Through here." The man rapped a smooth black pole, which she hadn't seen resting on his back due to the blackness of the night, against the whitish-grey stones of the bell tower. The blocks surrounding the place he'd struck simply faded away, leaving a large archway. Estia's eyes widened in amazement. "How did you do that?"
The man suddenly grinned, showing amusement for the first time. "Magic, of course. Specifically, an illusion. The stones were never there in the first place."
Estia blinked, then frowned. "But I was leaning up against them. How come I didn't fall through, and why don't the villagers find it by accident?"
The man stroked his beard, still smiling. "But you believed the stones were real... so for you, they were real."
Estia thought she understood, kind of... but she was too tired to really think about it. Instead, she turned her mind to a more obvious problem.
"The tower's too small. There wouldn't normally be space for more than a tiny room in there, smaller than even my cottage." She stared at the man, who was now jumping down, seemingly effortlessly, from the ten-foot bell ledge. ~Surely he's very powerful, if he can make such a small place bigger with his magic,~ thought Estia, more than a little awed.

The wizard walked into the dark archway, throwing an explanation over his shoulder. "My abode is underground, beneath the tower. Mind the steps." The glowing orb drifted from above him to follow him inside. "I'm Camoc, by the way."
Feeling a bit foolish for her assumption a few moments earlier, Estia blushed and followed Camoc into the tower. A set of steps, steep enough to make her slow down as she descended, led into the earth, though the path was illuminated by the orb that followed the spellcaster. The stairs ended, and Estia followed the orb of light down a narrow, even-floored hallway of packed earth that was likely held up by magic, since no wooden or metal supports were visible. One or two open doorways on either side lead into rooms, through one of which Estia caught a glimpse of a glinting array of vials and other containers made of expensive glass. She'd only seen glass once or twice, as display cases on the wagons of merchants who passed through her village.
They came to a doorway on the left, and Camoc turned to enter the room beyond. Estia walked in to see a small room, barely the size of her own bedroom in her cottage. A desk with a chair beneath it, along with a small cot, were the only furnishings. Looking a question at the wizard, and meeting his eyes, she was startled to see something like pain in his eyes. Camoc opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Finally, staring at the desk as if a world away, he told Estia, "I had an apprentice, once."
He turned abruptly and left the room. "Get some rest. You clearly need it." His voice echoed down the long hallway from outside. "We shall speak in the morning."
Estia yawned widely. Rest sounded good. She slumped wearily onto the cot, and dropped off into sleep without so much as drawing the thin blanket over herself.

Dragonizer wrote:(About time I got back to writing this.)

What she said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia's eyes opened slowly, but there was no change between the darkness on the inside of her eyelids and the outside. It took her a moment to remember that she was underground, in a wizard's hideout. She stirred, and winced as the stiffness and pain of a full night's running caught up with her. She was still wearing her damaged green dress, and a twitch of her feet informed her that she had also gone to bed with her boots on. Groaning, Estia swept her feet from the cot, and stood. Crossing the tiny room and using her memory to locate her pack in the dark, she picked it up and rummaged in it, drawing out a shirt and breeches and beginning to put them on. These were much more practical, and this was the first opportunity she'd had to get changed since the previous morning.
That morning seemed so far away, now. Her life had been completely different. She had had a home. All the people she knew had been alive, only yesterday. ~And now...~ Estia's eyes filled with tears, invisible in the darkness. ~Now... I don't even know if any of them survived.~

There was a knock at the small wooden door. Estia, finished getting dressed, wiped the tears from her face and steadied her breathing before calling, "Come in!"
Camoc, dressed in a brown robe, identical to the one he had worn last night-- or perhaps the same one-- entered the room, illuminated by his dim white mage-light. If he noticed that Estia's eyes were red from crying, he politely did not comment. Instead, he bowed shortly, oddly awkward for a man who wielded such power. "I'm sorry. I forgot you could not cast a light of your own, and came to see if you needed a torch."
Estia smiled thinly, trying and failing to hold her spirits up. "...I'm fine, thanks..." Realizing she should probably add some kind of honorific-- what did you call a mage?-- Estia hurriedly added, "...your Lordship."
Camoc tried to suppress an amused smile, but failed. "Oh, don't you go 'your Lordshipping' me. I'm Camoc and only Camoc." Returning to seriousness, he waved a hand and a wooden tray with a simple but appealing breakfast of fresh bread, goat cheese and cow's milk. "I already ate, but you must be hungry. Have a seat, feed yourself, and tell me your story."
Estia bit her lip to avoid crying at the reminder of all that had happened to her since just the previous day. "I suppose," she said slowly, slicing the bread with the knife that was on the tray, "I suppose I should start at the very beginning, when I first met the Teacher. He was on his way into our little town, the one to the east?" Seeing Camoc nod in recognition, she continued. The wizard interrupted a few times, to ask for clarification of some details, but for the most part he remained silent, even when Estia stopped at several points in her story, trying not to cry.

Some time later, Estia finished her narration, still holding back tears by distracting herself with eating the last crust of the bread. Camoc sat motionlessly on the room's lone chair for some time, staring unseeingly at the desk that had once belonged to his apprentice. When he moved, it was to stand, with no sign of stiffness. "It's a terrible thing, to lose all you hold dear. And even now, you are not safe." He turned worried eyes upon Estia. "You must run, and continue your flight until you can run no longer." He whirled suddenly and left the room, only to return less than a minute later carrying a slim pole of wood, which seemed to be segmented at many junctures. He handed the pole to Estia, who took it, gasping as she discovered how light it was. "When you can no longer run, fight. This pole is of bamboo, a wood from a far-off land. It will bend, but not break... so must you be."
Camoc paused in his speech, then continued, speaking quickly as if he were in a rush. "Now, you must go. All I can give you is this pole and my advice, though it may not be worth much." The wizard motioned for Estia to follow him, and she wondered why he was in such a hurry, though she supposed she did need to get going. "I do not know what your power is, but from your description it may have to do with those around you. You gained speed and reflexes when fighting the creature that calls itself Kyra; Your strength in repulsing the drunken man Big Rig mirrored his own."
"But can't you teach me anything? How to defend myself? How to use this magic you say I have?"
Camoc turned briefly to fix her with a haunted stare. "I am sorry, but it is not my fate to be your mentor. That duty is already taken, I fear. You must find this Teacher of yours; only by being near him will you be safe, until the Circle is overthrown."
Estia, frustrated now, followed him up the steep stairs, scowling. "I don't understand. Why do I have to leave so quickly? Are you afraid I'll bring this Circle down on you, is that it?"
The brown-robed wizard hunched as if she had struck him. "No, Estia. That is not it. You must trust me," he said without turning. They reached the top of the steps, and stood facing the interior wall of the bell tower. Camoc muttered a short phrase under his breath, and the stones melted away. No one was about, and the sky was not yet light enough for dawn to have come; it was a fairly early hour of the morning, which surprised Estia-- she didn't feel tired enough to have had only a few hours of sleep.
"Go, Estia, and no matter what you hear, do not turn back."
Estia gulped. That sounded ominous. "Go which way?"
"Whichever way your instinct leads you."
Estia blinked, then after a moment's hesitation, nodded. She gave Camoc a halfhearted smile of thanks, but knew that no thanks were enough for what she thought he was about to do. She turned toward the west and set off, never once looking back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, well, what have we here, hmmmm?"
Camoc didn't turn around, seeming completely unsurprised by the rasping voice behind him. He leaned on the bell, staring to the east, where smoke, only now visible in the early morning sun, rose in ominous pillars. He made no reply, but the silence didn't stretch for long.
"Worried, are we? Worried about a little village to the east...? Eee hee hee hee hee..." The high-pitched giggle trailed off into a sickly wheeze, and Camoc ground his teeth. "Don't worry, insect, don't worry your little head. I don't think I feel like doing the same to your quaint little town." Vrynos moved closer, until he was standing immediately behind Camoc. A combination of the waves of pure chaos that washed off him, along with his foetid breath, made the brown-robed wizard stiffen.
"Ah, yes, you don't like the chaos, do you, little wizard? The thing about chaos, you see, is it can change its mind... very quickly, it can, yessss..." Vrynos's fiendish, insane grin wasn't visible, but Camoc could practically feel it against his back. It took all his self-control not to betray his fear and sudden, unreasoning hatred. The chaos-corrupted creature continued to speak. "If you were to tell me the location of a certain girl, yesss, a certain delectable little morsel... I might be persuaded to move on without hurting anyone..." Vrynos was tapping a fingernail against the bell, his unbridled chaos energy causing it to vibrate discordantly, the ugly chord making passersby cover their ears. A few, looking for the source of the noise, saw the two wizards, one a skeletal man in a black-embroidered white robe, the other in a plain brown. A small crowd began to form.
"So, what d'you say, little wizard? Can we come to a mutually beneficial agreement, hmmmm?"
"She went north." Camoc lied.
"Did she, now?" The rasping voice was mocking. "You're a very poor liar, you know. All you insects are. Ah, well," Vrynos sighed, the sound like a sheet of parchment being crumpled. "I enjoy a good hunt, in any case. And I like destroying towns, too. I'm glad you gave me an excuse!" On the last word, the insane chaos-mage suddenly summoned a ball of crackling destructive energies to his hand, and sent it streaking towards the nearest building-- the town's carpentry shop.

Camoc's hand shot out at the same time, and the ball of energy suddenly swung around, inches from hitting the building, and rocketed back towards Vrynos, hitting the surprised madman full in the face with a Crack! and a sizzling noise. Vrynos's body hit the ground near the front ranks of the crowd that was now gathering, causing the nearest townspeople to draw back with a gasp.
Camoc whirled on them. "Fly, you fools! Make for the forest, and do not return until this is over!"
They stared at him, then were distracted as their comrades nearest to Vrynos drew back still further. The insane mage screeched with fury as he rose from the dust, his face uglier than ever for its expression of rage, with no evidence that it had ever been impacted with a ball of chaos capable of destroying a building. "Trying to use chaos against me? That shouldn't even have stung, foolish mage! What did you do to it? You changed it, made it foul!"
Camoc gazed serenely down at him from the bell tower's ledge, as the first of the townspeople began to run. "You wield chaos without its consuming you utterly, yet you know not a thing about it. Chaos is the essence of all that is random and uncontrollable. It follows every possibility at once, however improbable, whereas order imposes probability. I did change your chaos. I ordered it, so that it would follow the possibility of chaos turned upon itself, negating its own essence."

Vrynos stared up at him with bloodshot eyes, an insane smile tugging spasmodically at the corners of his mouth. "Speech, words, language. It's all for order, all to make us order our thoughts to communicate. Chaos is nice. Chaos lets you talk to people by killing them!! AH HAH HAH HAH HAAAA!"
A white torrent of pure chaos, shot through with threads of black and grey, roared from Vrynos's cackling mouth, heading straight for Camoc. Moments before reaching him, the torrent diverted, flying up into the air... then turning again. The brown-clad mage's forehead broke out in sweat, as he redirected the chaos to weave a complex sigil in the air. Completing the arcane sign, which glowed as brightly as the torrent of chaos it was born from, he settled it in front of him, where it acted as a mirror. Vrynos's own stream of chaos energies, striking the sigiled barrier, doubled back, blasting him into oblivion.

Camoc, panting heavily, kept the sigil floating before him-- who knew if the insane mage could re-form even after such an annihilation? Moments passed, then...
"Eeeee hee hee hee heeeee....." The voice came from everywhere. Camoc searched the air wildly, fearing an attack from hiding, but none came.
"Very good, very good! But I'm done playing, you see? No, no, you don't see! You can't see! I'm not there! AAAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAAAAAAAA!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia didn't look back as a burst of magically amplified, extremely loud laughter rang out from the town far behind her. It was followed by a series of explosions, but still Estia didn't turn around. She knew what she would see. The pillars of smoke from her own village in the evening light, and even in the light of this morning, were reminder enough of what this enemy was capable of.
Tears appearing anew in her eyes, the young woman maintained her steady jog through the forest, still heading west. ~Camoc... I'm sorry.~ How many more good people would die as a result of this 'Circle' chasing her? How many more tears would she shed before this was over?

A lone child knelt next to the small pile of stones that was all that remained of the bell tower. On top of the pile rested a fragment of the brass bell, as thoroughly destroyed as the tower. The young boy wasn't interested in the ruined structure, though. Instead, he tugged weakly on a booted foot that protruded from underneath the rubble.
"Fa-..." He swallowed, holding off tears. "Father? Get up... Please, get up..." His father didn't move. A rasping voice behind him made the boy flinch.
"Ooh, I missed one."
The child fell forward, onto the pile of rocks. His father's boot dug uncomfortably into his stomach, but he felt too tired, suddenly, to shift position. He looked down, a bit confused, at the hole in his chest, then his eyes closed forever.
"Eee hee hee hee... It feels so good to destroy things!" Vrynos's giggles dissolved into a cackle.

A minute or so later, the cackling stopped abruptly as Vrynos realized something. "Hmm... The superiors won't be happy, no, not at all... not when they find I stayed to kill the people and burn the town instead of chasing the girl..." Absentmindedly, he licked a mixture of soot and blood off of the fingers of his right hand. "Ah, but that's what dutiful people like Kyra and Talithin are for. I'm sure they've found her by now... Eee hee hee hee..."

Vrynos wandered to the west, amongst burning buildings, following his own meandering trail in the direction Estia had taken. It wouldn't hurt to check in on the other two, see if they'd caught the girl yet. And it might just be fun to watch one or the other capture her. And Vrynos did so like to have fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia leaned heavily on her staff as she squinted up at the noonday sun hanging directly above. The thinning trees of the forest had long since ceased to provide enough shade, and Estia was beginning to feel lightheaded due to the heat. Still, every time she felt inclined to sit down and take a break, the memory of the insane mage Vrynos's laughter kept her moving.
And the chaos wizard might not be her only problem. Kyra had promised her 'a day' to get as far away as possible; Estia wasn't sure if that meant her safety had expired at dawn of the current day, or if Kyra had meant the same time the next day.

Estia's worrying was interrupted as she came around a slight curve in the path. She stopped dead. Stretching as far as the horizon before her was a sea of sand: the Western Desert. She had never seen a map of the kingdom to which her town belonged, but word of mouth sufficed. Everyone said, when you reached the Sand Ocean, you were at the westernmost border of the realm. It was death for an unprepared traveler to set out into the mostly uninhabited wastes. Estia, standing at the edge of the desert, could see why. The air was dry, the sun a merciless hammer beating down on her head. Summer's heat was not yet fully gone, this early in the autumn, and Estia knew that she had neither the expertise nor the supplies to make a journey of any length over the sands.
~So. Two options remain to me... North or south.~ She looked south; the sparse trees at the edge of the forest curved out of sight to the east, leaving only the desert visible straight ahead. To the north, the treeline petered out to reveal a wide plain, filled with tall grasses and small, stunted-looking trees. ~So, if I go south, I'll also have to go back east... but if I go north, I'll be more easily visible. Unless... Unless I hide in the tall grass!~
Her mind made up, Estia turned right, so that she was traveling due north. The trees thinned as she walked, though the desert on her left remained unchanged. Soon, the forest disappeared completely, and she found herself passing through chest-high tall grass, yellow and dry in the aftermath of summer. Something about the prairie landscape appealed to Estia, and she smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a long time. She felt the grass part before her like water, and breathed in the fragrance of it. Under the noonday sun, it was easier to forget, or at least ignore, the truth of her situation.

"Why, hello, young lady." The voice behind Estia was clear and cool, ringing like a sweet chime of bells. A slight undercurrent of superiority in the beautiful tone lent the cultured-sounding words a certain hint of nobility. Estia whirled. A fair distance away stood a woman whose age Estia could not guess. Her calm, self-assured facial expression and something in her deep blue eyes hinted at middle-age, but her smooth, perfect skin bore no evidence of the lines any woman of that age would acquire, nor did she slouch with the tiredness of many years. Her straight black hair fell luxuriously almost to her waist. She wore her ageless beauty like a cloak, and her elegant pale blue dress, which perfectly matched her eyes, served only to accent her aura of sophistication. Estia got the feeling that this woman would still be imposing if she were dressed in rags.
~But no noblewoman would be out on the prairie, with nobody else about.~ Estia scowled. ~She's one of the ones chasing me.~ Remembering the beautiful, tinkling laughter she'd heard back in her village, the laughter that had been accompanied by explosions and the crackle of flames, she gritted her teeth. The woman's ringing, mockingly kind tone of voice matched that laughter perfectly. "Don't 'why, hello' me, witch!" Estia snapped. She had no patience left for this pretense of friendliness from someone hunting her.
"Witch?" The lady's expression changed from a welcoming smile to a look of genuine shock and hurt, and Estia felt a moment of uncertainty, before realizing that of course such an overly-perfect woman would be a good actress. Her suspicion was confirmed as the injured look turned into a superior, pitying smile. "Hardly. Poor, uneducated girl... I am a sorceress, no mere hedge witch. No one could expect you to know any better, but let me inform you."
The smile became even more condescending. "What one calls a spellcaster is based on what she does. A witch is what you might be more familiar with. Witches are rarely possessed of any great power, and they mostly dabble in potions, enchanted herbal remedies, and minor wards. Sometimes, if they're good enough, they can perform minor healing."
"A sorceress, however, wields magic beyond your wildest dreams." Pride entered the woman's condescending smile. "My kind is born with more power in one hand than any witch could ever hope to have. We have no need to learn the instincts required to cast powerful magics." Estia, tired of hearing this sorceress boast, gritted her teeth, realizing that she had no better option than to endure it; to try to run would get her killed very quickly.
"Other kinds of magic wielders include enchanters, wizards, seers, and mages. An enchantress enfolds objects or places in spells; wizards dabble in anything they can manage, learning magic out of books, by rote." The sorceress sniffed, showing her opinion of wizards. Estia's scowl deepened-- her experience of wizards so far had been positive, since apparently Camoc and the Teacher qualified. The sorceress, uncaring, continued her lecture.
"Seers, too, are rather worthless, though they can make a living entertaining peasants with their obscure visions. Mages are much like sorcerors, but their powers are restricted to elemental magics, leaving them unable to do much more than fight with their magic."
Estia rolled her eyes, thinking that this sorceress liked the sound of her own voice far too much.
"I do, do I?" The woman's dark blue eyes narrowed, flaring with disguised anger. Estia took a step back. ~Can she read my mind?~
"Yes, I can read your mind. And there is no excuse for such rude thoughts." The rage in her eyes disappeared; The sorceress was now the very picture of a politely indignant noblewoman, an appearance that was turned from amusing to frightening by the arcs of lightning that appeared between the fingers of her right hand. The miniature bolts crackled as the woman brought her arm above her head. "I must teach you a lesson!"

Estia gasped and flinched as the sorceress punctuated her last word by throwing the lightning. There was a blinding flash, visible even behind Estia's closed eyelids. She opened her eyes slowly, and gulped. Her hands, holding the staff, were thrown out in front of her, as if to block an oncoming object. Around her fists danced small silvery lights, and a short ways in front of the pole was a thin blue outline of a round shield. The sorceress across from her sniffed disapprovingly.
"I was not informed that you had any magic of your own, even such a negligible amount. I will have a word with the intelligence division when I get back." As she spoke, the sorceress idly twirled a hand in midair. Fire blossomed in her hand's wake, forming a ring and then a large ball. It grew slowly until it was almost the size of the sorceress herself, and she held it out in front of her. Estia backed up slowly, trying not to panic. Even if she knew how to use whatever power it was that she had, there was no way she could block this. Smiling graciously, the woman politely ordered, "Die, please."

"Hey, Talithin! Heads up!" The sorceress spun, but not quickly enough to avoid a flying kick to the head as Estia stared in astonishment. The fireball left the woman's-- Talithin's?-- hand with a sound like an explosion, flying off harmlessly into the sky as she fell. Kyra, standing over her, grinned at Estia before turning to stare down at the prostrate sorceress. "Tsk, tsk, Talithin," she tutted in her usual, sickeningly cheerful way. "Following orders is all very well and good, but I can't let you be interfering with my game. This girl is mine at dusk tonight, and it'd ruin the fun if you killed her before then."
Talithin's response was an arcing bolt of lightning. Kyra simply dodged it as if it were a clumsily thrust spear. Leaning down teasingly, she asked the sorceress, "Now, was that nice?"
"This is no time for games!" Snapped Talithin, hate burning in her eyes as she glared up at Kyra. Estia's eyebrows rose; evidently there was no love lost between the members of the Circle. She supposed that with power came quirkiness.
Ignoring the sorceress, Kyra turned her infuriating grin toward Estia. "Well, what are you just standing there for? Get going! You only have about five bells, tops. Then I go back to where we started, and come find you from there!"

Estia shuddered, reminded of how little time she had left to come up with some way of escaping, and turned to run. Behind her, an explosion and a startled shout from Kyra indicated that she might not even have that long. Not if Talithin defeated Kyra and came after her. Even though the flat prairie meant that she would have to travel a long distance to be out of earshot of the fight behind her, Estia continued to run, knowing that she'd feel better as long as she was moving away from the continuing sounds of explosions. Without noticing, she fell into a fluid, graceful stride, similar to the way Kyra moved; by staying light on her feet putting her weight only on the ball of each foot as she ran, she could sustain her headlong dash much more easily. Even after she tired, a slow jog served to keep her from overtaxing her weary, hungry body. The noises faded into the distance behind her as Estia made her way across the grassy plains.

Estia stared blankly at the tall grass in front of her feet as it waved in the wind that swept across the plains. Though she continued to trudge forward, the sea of yellow stalks in front of her didn't change. The monotony weighed on her mind, blurring the passage of time. The only way to check how long she'd been traveling was to gauge the sun's progress across the sky, which Estia did now. ~It's maybe five hours past noon. The sun will set in about three more, and then Kyra will be after me for real.~
An unpleasant feeling of suppressed panic rose in Estia's gut, and the girl quickened her pace slightly. Dragging her eyes from the grim reminder that was the afternoon sky, Estia scanned the horizon. At first, it seemed as empty as it had been for the last four hours. Then, squinting, Estia made out a smudge, almost like a tiny box resting on the horizon. Fixing her eyes on it, Estia picked up her pace a little more. As she drew closer, the shape became more defined; a greyish-black stone wall, encircling...
"A town!" Estia's eyes lit. While she had half a loaf of Camoc's bread left, having eaten the other half as she walked, she was still hungry and in need of somewhere to rest. She didn't delude herself that she could keep up such a demanding pace for much longer. Continuing to run without resting would just mean she'd cover less ground overall. She refused to think about the fact that if she spent more than an hour or so in the town, her time would be up anyways.

A short while later, Estia stood before the town's gates. Set in a fairly short ten-foot wall, the gates were closed, which was odd for the middle of the day. She'd never been to anyplace bigger than the closest village to her own-- ~Camoc's village,~ she thought sadly-- but from what she'd heard, places like this only closed their gates at night... or when they were expecting an attack of some sort.
"Hello?" She called to the narrow parapet above the wall. "Is anyone there?"
A small slit in the gate, which she hadn't seen before, opened. Through it, she could see a pair of eyes peering out at her, framed by wrinkles. She also noted that the gate was at least two feet thick.
"Who goes there?" A slightly wheezy but still authoritative voice called. "Be ye friend or foe?"
"Friend, I should hope," Estia said, surprised. "I hadn't heard that the kingdom of Teileth was at war with anyone, but perhaps word simply didn't reach my village."
Confused, the old man squinted at her. "Ye don' know...? Well, maybe..." He hesitated, then disappeared, the flap falling back over the slit before she could see anything inside. Through the thick wood, she could hear the elderly man call, "Haralt?"
"Yes, elder Francis?" The new voice was male, and sounded as if its owner would brook no nonsense of any kind, though it was softened by respect. The two spoke quietly for a short while, the thick gate reducing their voices to a vague murmur. Estia waited patiently, though her thoughts turned nervously to her pursuers. At last, the old man called Francis returned to the slit, opening the flap. "Sorry to keep ye waiting, young lady. Take a step back." He disappeared again as Estia obeyed. There was a creaking noise as a previously invisible doorway separated out from the gate in front of Estia. The thick portal swung outwards, revealing the rest of the gatekeeper Francis. He wore a simple white cotton tunic, brown woolen breeches, and a grandfatherly smile; in other words, he seemed ordinary in every way. He stepped aside and motioned for her to pass, and closed the door behind her as she looked around.

Small bushes lined a short, wide cobbled path which soon opened out into a full-fledged street. The street continued all the way to a well that formed the centrepiece of a large square. The only things of note that weren't hidden by the houses to either side of the street were a walled keep at the end of the road, and a set of tall, conical towers ahead and to Estia's right. Having noted these, she switched her gaze back to the square. In a town this size, the square should have been packed, and the streets busy with the coming and going of merchants and their customers. However, the entire place seemed deserted, as if everyone were hiding, or gone. She began to turn, frowning, to ask Francis where everyone was. Suddenly, a large hand gripped her shoulder, as another pressed a wet cloth over her nose and mouth. Estia flailed, feeling her captor struggle to keep hold of her, but something was wrong with her limbs. They weren't responding as they should, and Estia suddenly felt very sleepy. ~This is no time... to... huh?~ Her thoughts slowed down, and she found herself unable to focus on anything but the odd smell from the cloth over her mouth. Darkness rushed from the corners of her eyes to fill her vision, and Estia collapsed, unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia's eyes fluttered open, and she squinted as a bright light was brought to bear on her face. Feeling stiff, she tried to stretch, and found that her hands were tied to the back of the chair on which she sat. The brightness of the light prevented her from seeing anything of her surroundings, but she could feel the presence of a large person who seemed to be holding the light, and someone behind and to his left. He spoke, and she struggled to focus on his words through a strange haze in her mind.

"...remain our captive until you answer to our satisfaction. Is that clear?" The voice was gravelly, male, and somewhat familiar. Her mind cast about until she recognized the voice of the man the gatekeeper had hailed as Haralt. Estia blinked rapidly to try and clear her thoughts further, and looked up at where she thought his head was. "Nothing's very clear right now. Not my head, and not your reason for 'capturing' me, as you put it..." Her head swam from the effort of putting together a coherent sentence, and Estia screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to stabilize it. "But I'm pretty sure I get the idea. I'm to tell you anything you ask. Wonderful." She was glad, at least, that she seemed to still be capable of sarcasm.
"Good," the man said, as if her response had been simply 'Yes.' He shifted slightly, though, as if uncomfortable.
"What is your name?"
"Estia."
"Estia. Are you an agent of the Circle? Answer using only yes or no."
Estia experienced a moment of cold fury. The Circle... that name, at least, was familiar. "No."
A deep female voice spoke from behind Haralt. "Truth." The big man seemed to relax a bit. Nonetheless, he proceeded with his next question.
"Do you know anything about the Circle?"
Estia frowned. To say 'no' would be a lie, but... "Very little."
The voice behind Haralt spoke again. "True, as far as she honestly believes." Haralt shifted from foot to foot again. "Answer using only yes or no," he said sternly.
"Yes, then." Estia growled out. "I would have been happy to answer your questions if you'd just asked politely, you know."
Haralt sighed. "We couldn't take that risk. If you'd been an agent of the Circle..." He stopped, obviously catching himself before saying any more. Seeming flustered, he said, "I am the one asking the questions here! Do you mean harm toward anyone or anything within the township of Roaning?"
That one, at least, was easy. "No."
"True." The voice behind Haralt said, sounding surprised. "Well, now..."
Estia, still partially blinded by the lamp, could nonetheless see Haralt's head turn towards the woman behind him. "See? I didn't think we had anything to fear from this girl. Silens is just promoting paranoia--"
"No names!" The woman snapped. "Aware or not, she could be a spy." When Haralt opened his mouth to protest, she continued, "...and even if she's not, anyone they capture could give up our names when they bring out the torture instruments..."
Estia scowled in the woman's direction, feeling frustration well up inside her. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that." She snapped. "If they catch up with me, they won't bother with torture, they'll skip straight to the 'killing me' part!" Suddenly, her mind finally catching up with her situation, she felt panic overcome her. "You... you can't hold me here! I have to get away, right now!"
Haralt turned back to her, his expression unreadable in the glare of the light. "We can't allow that. Would you like to explain...?" His voice was perfectly neutral, hiding any emotion he might have.
"I'm being chased by this Circle you seem so worried about," Estia told him, close to tears. "If you don't want their attention, you have to let me go immediately. I'll be on my way, and your town won't have to end up like the last two, just a pile of smoking rubble..." Her voice broke and petered out.
The two people in the room were silent, and Estia got the distinct impression that they were staring at her. Suddenly she felt a lot less brave. She was just a village girl, thrown into a life-or-death chase with no understanding of what was happening. Now she was being interrogated by two people she couldn't see, who seemed to belong to some kind of organization that she didn't know about, and who were all too likely to simply keep her locked up here until Kyra came to raze their town and kill her.
Estia's tears escaped the dam she'd built for them, and, to her shame, began to stream down her cheeks. The woman who'd spoken with Haralt whirled with a sound of fluttering fabric and left the room. The bright light suddenly left Estia's face, and its source, a lantern backed by a bowl of reflective tin, was turned to illuminate the dark gray stone floor. Squinting through her tears, Estia made out walls of the same dark gray, and a set of manacles hanging by one wall. The door had bars on it. She was in a jail cell. That knowledge didn't help, and her tears simply flowed all the thicker.

It was a few moments before she remembered that Haralt was still there. He sat on a stool across from her chair, uncomfortably averting his eyes. If she hadn't been so tired and overwhelmed, Estia might have made a cutting remark. Instead, she simply stared at him for a moment, taking in details to distract herself from her frustration and helplessness.
His wide face, adorned with short reddish hair and a similarly short beard, would not have been out of place in a workman's camp. His eyes, however, held an intelligence that belied his rugged appearance, and his clothing, while simple, was finely crafted, hinting at affluence and learning. Right now, those eyes were looking everywhere but at Estia, and shame was written all over the man's face. He didn't seem to know how to react to Estia's tears.
"Where did she go?" Estia asked him, mostly still to distract herself. The tears were stopping, at least.
"To report." He still refused to meet her eyes, but Estia pressed on.
"To whom?"
"I can't say. Is it true, though? That the Circle is after you personally?"
Estia clenched one fist, remembering the atrocities the Circle had committed in their pursuit of her. Two villages, gone. Everyone she'd ever known was dead... with, perhaps, the exception of the Teacher. And all because they thought that killing her would flush out their real target. "Of course it's true," she snapped angrily. "She--" she indicated the cell door through which the woman had left-- "would have told you if I were lying."
Haralt looked down, and Estia immediately regretted her anger. It wasn't his fault. An uncomfortable silence followed, as Estia wondered if she should apologize. Then the big man spoke in a subdued voice. "I'm Haralt, by the way. Vinya always says, 'no names,' as if it really matters."
Estia, deciding not to tell him she had already known his name, glanced at the door again. "Vinya... she's a witch, right?" Remembering a lecture she'd unwillingly received not so long ago, Estia amended herself, "Or a sorceress, or some such."
Haralt nodded. "Sorceress. She's a master at truth spells, among other things. We rely on her a great deal, for her talents with interrogations and such. We prefer not to use torture. It's unreliable as well as inhumane. People will say anything under torture, whether it's true or not." He stopped suddenly. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this." He got up as if to leave.
"Wait!" Estia didn't think she could bear being left to wait here alone, with no idea what time it was... how long she had before Kyra came. She couldn't say that, though. "When will Vinya get back? And what time is it?"
Haralt's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Estia. He sat back down, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know when she'll be back. It depends on how long she spends talking to her superiors. And it's just a bit after dusk, so chances are we'll let you go in the morning, if the higher-ups decide--"
"No!" Estia, in a full-fledged panic, struggled to get up from the chair she was bound to. "If it's after sundown, then she's coming for me! Nothing will stop her! She could be on her way here right now!"
Alarmed, Haralt stared at Estia's face. Her pupils were fully dilated, and her eyes were wide, creating a very unnerving picture. What kind of person could inspire this much fear? He was almost afraid to ask, but... after all, it was his duty to gather information. "Who? Who's coming?"
Estia closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. When she had her terror under control, she turned in her chair to look at Haralt. "Her name... is Kyra."
Boom.
Several tense seconds passed, as Estia and Haralt stared at each other in shared surprise at the loud, distant noise. Then, with a rattle of keys at the cell door, then a young man burst into the small room. "My lord Haralt! An explosion!" He stopped to catch his breath, then continued. "It came from the south gate!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Francis yawned, sinking a little deeper into his seat in the small gatehouse. His shift was nearly over, and he looked forward to a nice rest in the comfort of his own home. Still, it wouldn't do to fall asleep on the job. Suppressing a second yawn, he rose to his feet, feeling a moment of pride at his continuing fitness despite his years. Not for him the constant dozing and rickety joints of an old man. Stretching, he left the gatehouse and took a few deep breaths of the night air that blew from the prairies to the south.
Knock, knock. The sound came from the gate. Someone was... knocking? Francis frowned, confused. The gate was too thick for a regular person knocking to be heard. Still...
Knock, knock, knock. The sound came again. Francis approached the gate, and opened his viewing slit. On the other side was an exceedingly beautiful woman, who smiled elegantly as she turned to regard him through the notch. The only thing marring her dazzling features was a shallow gash that ran the length of her left cheekbone, though Francis didn't think of it as a blemish-- it simply contributed to her air of strength. 'This woman is not fragile,' it seemed to say.

"Greetings, gatekeeper. I would gain entry to your town this fine night. Wilt thou open the gate for me?" She treated him to a dazzling smile. He smiled back, despite himself, though for some reason he felt that something was wrong. His smile lessened slightly. "Sorry, m'lady, but I'd best consult with my superiors before I let ye in. Protocol, an' all that," he hastened to explain, not wanting to make a poor impression.
The fair lady on the other side of the door frowned slightly, as well, before returning the smile to her face. "Oh, I'm sure there's no need to bother anyone. They won't mind if you save yourself a long trip. If they're good superiors, they'll understand that you aren't as young as you used to be..."
Francis, his hand on the handle of the gate's door to open it, stopped at that. Not as young as he used to be? Why, the nerve. He was just as capable as he'd ever been. And why was he grinning like an idiot, just because this lovely lady was sympathizing with him? A frown replacing the smile, he returned to the viewing slit. "I'm sorry, m'lady, but I really must go 'n speak with someone. If you'll wait 'ere for just a minute--"

BOOM.

The lady stepped daintily along a clean path through the shattered wreckage of the immense gate, brushing splinters from her light blue dress. She didn't so much as glance at the bloodstained pile that was all that remained of the foolish gatekeeper, but instead came to a stop at the beginning of the cobbled street, running her eyes over the town, her gaze lingering on the small, walled keep at the end of the road. A slight smile graced her lips, and she raised a hand towards the nearest building to the gate, an inn for travelers. Its walls shattered, and the tiled roof dropped. Screams emanated from the ruin, and the lady tilted her head, listening attentively. The voice she was listening for, however, was not one of those screaming. Paying the pained cries no more mind, she turned to follow the main street.
Suddenly, a pool of purple light bathed her. Turning, she regarded its source-- a tower among the cluster that resided in a corner of the town to her right. She smiled regally, and curtsied mockingly in its direction.
"Sorceress." A voice boomed from the air around her. "You have come here, and have done harm without provocation. Know that it will not go well for you from this point."
"I'm sure." She smiled winningly. No hint of the warmth in her smile reached her pale blue eyes. Those eyes resembled the ice whose color they shared.
"I am Gerren Skyflame, First Warlock of the Mages' Council of Western Teileth. As the highest magical authority in this region, I hereby sentence you to death for senseless and wanton use of magical power to oppress those without the strength to resist."
The sorceress's smile became menacing, the ice in her eyes flashing. "And how do you intend to enforce this sentence?"
"I will kill you myself." A man now stood across the cobbled street from the sorceress. In his right hand was a staff topped by a bright red gemstone, and he wore a black robe which seemed to emanate silvery light in a shifting pattern. The serenity in his eyes was rivaled only by the coldness in the lady's own.
"Well, then, Gerren Skyflame, I must say I am disappointed. It will require more than a single mere warlock to subdue Talithin, Lady of the Black Sun, Keeper of the Circle's Center."
"It is well, then, that your opponent is more than a single mere warlock." As unassumingly as the man had appeared, five more were suddenly standing in a circle around the sorceress. Each was, to all appearances, a copy of Gerren. Talithin frowned slightly. "An illusion will not serve you, warlock."
Gerren did not smile. "I agree. Hence, no illusion."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia followed Haralt through an underground tunnel. It was one of a very few passages that the man was absolutely sure the Circle's spies did not know of, and it would take her out of the town and into the forest to the northeast.
"Why are you helping me, again?" Estia asked him. She wasn't complaining, but his decision to aid her in escaping had been rather sudden, and she was fairly certain it had nothing to do with the 'superiors' he kept mentioning.
"Because you obviously need help, and are even more obviously an enemy of the Circle. The enemy of my enemy is my friend." He looked at her. "You and I both know we don't have the time to wait for the higher-ups to decide if we should help you, and the town isn't safe any more." He sighed heavily, an odd smile on his face. "You have no idea just how much you set in motion today."
Estia looked down miserably. "I don't need to be reminded that I've left a trail of destruction in my wake. I've probably doomed your town, too, just by bringing it to the Circle's attention."
"Destruction...?" Haralt returned his gaze to the tunnel ahead, as it began to slope slightly upwards. "I think you might be surprised. You may have guessed, but I belong to an organization that fights the Circle. Although our enemy is strong, and influential, we have a number of... 'aces in the hole,' one might say. It was only a matter of time before the Circle discovered us in any case. Best that it begin now." He grinned suddenly, still looking forward. "Whoever is chasing you is likely to get more than they bargained for."
Estia looked up at him. "I don't know. These people are... not human, somehow." She shivered involuntarily. "The one I told you about... Kyra... I crushed her head myself, with a table leg. She just got back up as if nothing had happened."

Haralt stopped, then turned to stare at her. "Not human? Well, of course they're not human! They're agents of the Circle!" His eyes flicked from the tunnel ahead, where a dim light was visible despite the lantern, back to Estia. "When I asked you how much you knew about the Circle, and you said 'very little...' I had no idea how little you meant!" He started moving again, increasing his pace. "Why are they chasing you, if you don't know their secret?"
"What secret?" Estia wanted to know.
"If you don't know, I'm not telling you. You have fuel enough for your nightmares as it is, girl. Answer the question."
Estia sighed. Maybe she didn't want to know, after all. "From what I can tell, they think my death will flush out the Teacher."
For the second time in as many minutes, Haralt froze again. "The... Teacher? Do you mean... that one??"
Estia rolled her eyes, trying to be patient. "I don't know if I mean 'that one.' Who do you mean?"
For a moment, Haralt debated with himself. Then he nodded, as if to confirm the decision to tell her this much, at least. "He is a wizard of the highest degree, almost unrivaled in power. In times past, he is rumoured to have single-handedly put down an organization similar to the Circle. Our own little rebellion has been searching for him since it was founded, among other things. Many of us believe he is our greatest, and maybe only, hope." Haralt massaged his temples, briefly looking tired. "He is described as a fairly old man, who carries a gnarled staff. The staff bears an emerald of purity unrivaled by any known gem." Estia, remembering the green gemstone on the staff carried by the Teacher when she had last seen him, broke out in a cold sweat. Though she had slowly come to terms with the fact that the much-loved old man who'd so generously taught the village's children was in fact a powerful mage, she had never imagined how powerful he was.
The two reached the end of the tunnel, where it emerged into a small pit behind a clump of bushes. Gripping the edge of the hole, which was at his chest height, Haralt pulled himself out, then reached in with one hand to help Estia climb out herself. The twilight lit the way as they stole silently into the sparse trees. In the distance, flashing lights were visible above the town as different magics did battle. Estia shivered, praying that this town, at least, would have a different fate than Camoc's village.
"Estia?" Haralt's voice was quiet, as if afraid that even now the Circle's agents could be anywhere. "Do you know the Teacher's name? It would help immensely."
Estia shook her head regretfully."It may sound odd, but even though he stayed with us for the better part of a year, no one ever referred to him as anything but 'the Teacher.' I'm sorry."
Haralt smiled, and clapped her gently on the back as they turned to walk along the bank of a small stream that ran northward. "It's all right, girl. Most, if not all, mages go by a fake name or a title, because knowing someone's real name lets you scry them. With your name, combined with a focus, like a lock of hair or a treasured belonging, some magic users can cast some rather nasty spells on you, too. Here we are."

His meaning was immediately apparent as they emerged into a clearing of sorts. Estia gasped in surprise and wonder. A fifteen-foot waterfall tumbled from a rocky crag set into the steeply sloped green hill on which they stood. A small pond below them, shaded by the trees that grew unperturbed up to its banks, teemed with fish. Flowing from the pond, a stream disappeared into the dense forest. For a moment Estia felt safe, as if the sheer beauty of this place could keep the ugliness of the Circle at bay.
"This is a place where nature's energies are strong. If we are lucky, it is here that we will meet the druid who is the keeper of this forest." Haralt spoke as if he didn't quite believe it himself. He appeared on edge, looking about as if expecting the druid to appear out of the surrounding foliage.
Estia took a deep breath, and despite everything, found herself smiling. A wellspring of inexplicable contentment seemed to blossom within her. "It's... nice here." Looking down once more at the pond in its little clearing, she blinked.
On a large stone protruding into the pond, a young man lay on his back. He wore a light tan robe with the hood down, allowing him to stare up through the small break in the crowns of the trees at the twilit sky. A fishing rod rested between his knees, dangling a line into the water. He didn't seem to notice Estia and Haralt standing on the cliff above him. Estia nudged Haralt.
"Who's that?"
"Hmm?"
"Who is that, on the rock?"
"On the rock?" Haralt squinted down at the pond. "Which rock? I don't see anyone."
~He must not be looking at the right one,~ thought Estia. She pointed. "There, the big one that sticks into the water."
"I see it. There's no one there, Estia."
Estia frowned. "Well, I've had a couple people tell me I have magic, though I've never shown it before. Maybe it has to do with that."
Haralt looked at her askance. "Magic? You never mentioned this. It'd explain why Vinya was acting so wary, though. The spellcasters in our organization aren't very trusting of other magic-wielders."
The girl shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter. I can't be very strong if I never even noticed I had magic until now." She stared down at the person who, apparently, only she could see. "I have an idea."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nayn, or 'Green-thumb' as many in the neighboring villages called him, smiled contentedly as the moon rose in the sky overhead. His fishing rock was still a bit warm from the day's sun, and he had a couple hours before his mentor expected him home. Most youths his age would have been uneasy to be alone in the woods, to all appearances sleeping out in the open... but Nayn wasn't 'most boys,' as he was fond of telling his parents when they came to visit. He had ways of hiding himself, and of knowing when there were dangerous things like big animals or human beings about.
A frog leapt from its hiding place underneath a nearby stone overhang, landing on a fold of the young man's tan robe. From there it hopped onto his chest, inspecting him carefully.
"Hello, there," Nayn murmured, grinning at the curious amphibian. "You'd best not get used to saying hello to every human that comes along. Frog legs are a delicacy in some places."
Letting out a disinterested croak, the creature leapt again, landing in the pond with a quiet 'plop.' Nayn sighed and sat up, letting his mind flow outward to listen to the voices of the trees nearest him, as his mentor required him to do every so often. Still, it was hard to think of the exercise as a chore. The quiet murmurs of the trees and shrubs were calming, and Nayn had come to enjoy the sensation of connectedness to at least a small part of the forest. He couldn't imagine being in contact with the whole place at once, as his mentor was. -And that's why I'm an apprentice, and he's a full druid.-

The forest, at least in the small area he could touch with his mind, was peaceful. If any humans or other dangerous animals were about, the trees would know. Knowing that he had nothing to fear, Nayn lay back again, still smiling.
"Hello, there." A voice said from a short distance above his head.
Nayn shot upright, scrambling to stand up. The girl to whom the voice belonged stood a couple of steps away, smiling disarmingly. Nayn wasn't fooled. How had she managed to sneak up on him? "Who are you?" His voice cracked midway through the sentence, and he blushed crimson. His changing voice had to choose now to act up, didn't it?
"My name's Estia." She told him politely.
"How did you find me?" Nayn asked hesitantly. He took a step back, and felt instinctively that another step would take him off the edge and into the pond. He paused, considering, then stopped. He wasn't quite ready to take a freezing cold dip to escape, and to be honest, he was kind of curious. "Why didn't the trees warn me?"
The girl looked puzzled. "I think I could see you because I have a little magic of my own. And I have no idea why the trees didn't warn you. Are you a druid, then?"
"Not a very good one, evidently." Nayn shrugged ruefully, grinning. As his initial shock wore off, his friendly-to-a-fault nature kicked in. "I'm Nayn, by the way. Apprentice druid, part-time forest guide and gardener, at your service." He held out a hand.
Estia shook it, matching his grin. "Pleased to meet you, Nayn. It's not every day that I get to meet someone who talks to frogs. Is that part of your abilities, too?"
Nayn's tanned face turned bright red. "No. I talk to everything, whether it can talk back or not. Maybe I'm a bit crazy from living in the forest with no one to talk to but a man who's half tree."

"I'm glad to see you two are getting along, but I'd suggest you get down to business, Estia."
Nayn flinched at the new voice, then relaxed, recognizing the deep tone. He sighed dramatically. "I suppose I must practice anew the art of listening to the warnings of the forest, as my all-knowing mentor is fond of telling me," he proclaimed as if reciting a ballad. "O, woe is me, when the forest will not inform me even of the thumping footsteps of that great oaf Haralt."
"Watch who you're calling an oaf, boy!" Haralt shot back, but despite his words he was smiling to match Nayn's boyish grin. Estia watched the interplay, amused. Apparently Nayn and Haralt knew each other well.
Haralt, noticing Estia's regard, winked at the girl."If you'd just told me the person you saw was a dozy-looking boy with a robe three sizes too big for him, you wouldn't have had to sneak up on him."
"Oh, I don't know," Estia retorted, enjoying the fun atmosphere. "Necessary or not, I think sneaking up on him was worth it just for the reaction."
"Please, please, enough with the jokes at my expense!" Nayn said, laughing and holding his hands up in surrender. "You mentioned some kind of business, Haralt?"
The big man sobered. "Yes. I need you to take this young lady to your mentor. He's likely the only one who can help her, and I have to return to town to oversee the aftermath of our first real encounter with the Circle."

Nayn's smile disappeared. "So... the battle's joined, then. And Estia here is somehow involved with it...?" He looked at her inquiringly.
Estia took a deep breath. "The Circle is chasing me. They want to kill me to get at the Teacher, and they followed me to the town of Roaning." Seeing Nayn's wide-eyed reaction to hearing her refer to the Teacher, she held up a hand to forestall the obvious question. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I do mean that one."
Nayn's mouth, hanging open, shut itself with a snap. "Well, umm... I can definitely take you to my mentor, but..." He glanced at Haralt.
"But what?" Haralt prompted.
Nayn stared at his feet. "But... I can't promise old tree-head will help. He doesn't like humanity as a whole, though he's nice enough one on one... and he doesn't like to get involved in stuff to do with the world outside." Looking uncomfortable, Nayn shrugged as Estia and Haralt continued to stare at him. "I'll do my best, okay?"
"See that you do," Haralt said, warmth re-entering his voice. He clapped Nayn, and then Estia on the shoulder. "Good luck, both of you."
With that, he strode off into the trees, uncaring of the loud crackling of leaves and snapping of twigs that accompanied his footfalls. Nayn watched him go, then scowled suddenly. "Now the trees hear him."
Estia dissolved into giggles, earning a halfhearted glare from Nayn that soon turned into a grin.
"C'mon, then. Let's go talk to old tree-head... Or as the rest of the world likes to call him, the Druid of the Western Grove."

I was bored when I read this.

>: 3

*Uses epic thread-moderator powers*
*Bans Shplane from the thread*

GTFO NOOB.

magikchicken wrote:*Uses epic thread-moderator powers*
*Bans Shplane from the thread*

GTFO NOOB.

IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE YOU CAN'T DO THAT

Actually i kind of didn't read it at all because when I first opened the thread I was tired and didn't feel like it.

So basically tl;dr

An owl, greeting the onset of darkness, hooted from the treetops above. Estia stared at the rustling canopy overhead, a little awed. As Nayn, the druid's apprentice, led her deeper into the forest, the trees grew taller and thicker. Before long, the two were weaving between arboreal leviathans whose trunks were thrice the width of Estia's shoulders. Far above, the spreading canopies of leaves blended together to form a solid barrier to the night sky. Try as she might, Estia could not make out even a single star. It was pitch black in this place cut off from the moon, but Estia could see quite clearly, as if she were merely traversing a dim room. Nayn, too, seemed unperturbed by the darkness, his confident stride keeping up a pace that Estia wasn't sure she could match for much longer. Her feet ached from two days of nearly unbroken walking, and the short times she had had to sleep were only enough to dull the edge of her exhaustion.
Estia wasn't used to being up after dark; most villagers didn't own expensive candles, and lamp oil was too precious to waste unnecessarily, so the village normally slept when the sun did. Shaking away her mounting sleepiness as best she could, Estia reminded herself that her pursuers, and more specifically Kyra, were bound to be close behind her. The surge of trepidation at that thought banished all tiredness for a moment, but for some reason Estia couldn't keep fear in her mind for long. The huge trees all around her seemed to exude a quiet calm, an assurance that nothing could disturb the peace of this place. Even though, rationally, Estia knew that Kyra was likely following her, and could easily be lurking around the next wide trunk, something less rational told her that this, the heart of the great woods, was a safe place.

Estia stopped suddenly, blinking to keep her eyes open. Nayn continued for a couple steps, then turned to regard her quizzically. "What're you stopping for, Estia? We've only got a little further to go."
Barely hearing him, Estia stared into the space between two trees, a short distance to their right. There was a slight rustle of leaves, then a figure stepped out of the gloom. Distantly, Estia heard Nayn gasp. A young female with pale green skin, clothed in a small dress of woven leaves, walked slowly toward them, a look of curiosity on her soft, childish features. Looking to Nayn for guidance, Estia saw him standing perfectly still, as if the girl were a fawn who might bolt at the slightest movement. Estia turned back to find herself face to face with the child. Despite her young features, the girl stood slightly taller than Estia. A wide, guileless smile on her childish face, the girl suddenly leaned forward and kissed Estia on the forehead. Estia's vision blanked, then was replaced by flashes of forest scenery.
She saw a squirrel perched in the boughs of a weeping willow by a stream; a clearing on which the full moon shone brightly, illuminating a number of dancing figures clothed in leafy garments like the ones on the strange girl; a tangle of roots enfolding an ancient-looking chest with a rusty metal lock; a waterfall and pond which could only be the place where she had met Nayn.
Several more scenes followed, then the visions ceased. Estia's eyes opened, but she saw only the wide trunks and the darkness of the deep forest. The leaf-clad girl was gone. Estia, slightly disoriented, turned to see Nayn still frozen, unmoving, staring at her. Frowning, she wondered if he was stuck like that, but then he relaxed, a small, bemused smile creeping onto his face. "Estia," he said quietly, "that was a forest nymph. No one can find them if they don't want to be found, and they don't greet just anyone. I lived in this forest for five years before I even glimpsed one of them."
Estia, her sleepiness back in full force now that the strange situation had passed, just shrugged, too tired to want to think or talk about it right now. "We'd best get going."
Nayn shook his head, a rueful grin spreading across his boyish features. "Indeed."
They set off again, Estia following the young man deeper into the heart of the woods. The calm of the trees all around seemed even more pronounced, and several times Estia's feet slowed, forcing her to shake herself awake and hurry to catch up with Nayn. As she walked, though, she thought sleepily about the girl-- the nymph-- and what her appearance might mean.

"We're here." Nayn's voice cut through the sleepy fuzz that surrounded her thoughts, and Estia stopped abruptly. They stood at the entrance to a huge clearing; this gap in the trees seemed to be the only one in a staggered but solid ring of trunks nearly two hundred feet across. In the center of the clearing stood a massive pillar, and it took Estia a few moments to realize that this was, in fact, also a tree. The trunk, sixty feet wide along most of its length, widened at the bottom, then separated into five giant roots that extended in all directions, each one traveling straight out from the tree for at least twenty feet before plunging into the ground. Her eyes following the immense trunk up into the sky, Estia stifled a gasp. The impression of a clearing was in fact the result of an immense canopy of leafy branches that separated from the trunk a hundred and fifty feet in the air. Finally taking in the scope of this monolithic tree, Estia realized that it was at least half again as tall as any of the massive trees that ringed it. Then her eyes were drawn by movement closer to the ground.
About forty feet up from the roots was an opening, almost like a cave entrance. A rope ladder, seeming tiny compared to the wide trunk it descended, hung from the edge of the hole. Nayn set off across the clearing towards the huge tree, and Estia followed, her eyes returning to stare in wonder up at the branches high above, many of which were themselves as wide as average trees. Then she remembered what had briefly caught her attention, and shifted her gaze back to their destination. A man stood in the hole, wearing a green robe similar in style to the one Nayn wore. His face was crisscrossed with thin lines, which proclaimed wisdom more strongly than they did age. Indeed, the wizened features seemed to lack the pronounced wrinkles that beset the faces of the very old, and the shallow lines instead gave the impression of shadows cast on sun-dappled leaves. As Nayn and Estia approached the farthest extent of the roots, the man frowned slightly, the crow's-foot laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.

"Nayn!" The druid barked, in a voice stern but not sharp. The boy stopped immediately. "What did I tell you when you mentioned seeking out the forest nymphs? I am highly surprised that you seem to have found one, but to bring her here is..." The words trailed off as Estia came to stand beside Nayn. The man's eyes, startlingly bright green, narrowed as he squinted down at her. He took in her traveler's pack and clothing, then his gaze flicked to his apprentice before returning to Estia's face.
"...So. Not as I thought, then." The druid seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes locked on Estia's own, then he suddenly smiled. The expression lit up his somewhat forbidding face, and Estia let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding.
"Well, go on," the man said gruffly, his tone belied by the warm expression. "Bring her up here, and we'll see what's what."
Estia looked over to Nayn, whose infectious grin inspired a similar one on her face. The apprentice druid motioned for her to follow him once more, and he set off along one of the wide roots toward the rope ladder. Looking back up at the hole as she followed Nayn, she saw that the druid had already disappeared within. Suddenly excited despite her exhaustion, Estia smiled again to herself. What interesting people she had met with so far. Certainly she'd had her share of misfortune, but this journey was far from all bad. Now she faced the opportunity to meet a druid, a man so famous that folk tales about him had reached all the way to her tiny village. ~Every cloud, after all, has a silver lining.~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talithin, Lady of the Black Sun, Keeper of the Circle's Center, stumbled coughing from the city's blasted gate, a cloud of stinging acidic mist billowing around her. She summoned a prairie wind, scattering the burning fog, but groaned as the magical sword protruding from her side grated against bone. It would take more power than she could spare to draw the blade from her flesh, but the pain was quickly becoming debilitating. Putting a hand to the hip in question, she unleashed a blast of destructive energy, vaporizing all of the flesh around the weapon and a good part of the bone. The sword, unharmed by the rush of raw power, clattered to the hard earth of the prairie.
The warlock Gerren Skyflame strode from the gaping hole in Roaning's wall that had once held the mighty gate. Talithin sneered at him. His eyes flicked to the wound in her side, then to the enchanted blade lying behind her. The sorceress cocked her head, a mocking smile coming to her face, and indicated the gaping wound. "What, does this make you queasy?" She waved a hand at the space where her left hip should be. A moment later, the burnt flesh around the hole bulged and began to fill it. Within seconds, the wound was gone. The only sign that a blade, and then a torrent of fire, had ever been there was an immodest hole in her now-tattered light blue dress.
"You can't injure me, foolish warlock. I have destroyed all five of your pathetic doubles, a sixth should not tax me overmuch."
"Enough bluffing, sorceress." The look in Gerren's eyes was no longer serene, instead holding a coldness almost worthy of Talithin herself. She took an involuntary step back as Gerren made an arcane gesture. Talithin threw up a barrier, a coruscating white shield that flashed into being in front of her. As soon as it appeared, though, the shield fractured and then shattered. Talithin collapsed to her hands and knees, eyes widening as blood began to pour from her mouth. A moment later, she stood shakily, and attempted another mocking grin, instead only managing a pained grimace with teeth stained red, as the internal wounds caused by the warlock's spell began to heal themselves. The truth was that she was spent, without the power even to defend herself. Gerren knew this, but he also knew that no spell he knew could destroy her completely enough to ensure that she would not return.
Still, there was something else he could try. As Talithin struggled to maintain a strong facade, she suddenly found herself encircled once more by six warlocks, the other five identical copies of Gerren. Each pointed a ruby-tipped stave directly at her, and each began a different chant, the varying cadences and rhythms seeming to interlock as if each were merely part of a greater whole. The six voices rose and fell, creating a melody that was passed seamlessly from one Gerren to another. The chant crescendoed, and each voice joined in a deafening unison, the very air vibrating with the magical power contained in the words.

A six-sided box, its surface composed of churning gray magical energy, appeared around the sorceress, hiding her from view. Slowly, the box compressed, shrinking, until it was the size and shape of a gambler's die. Coalescing, the energy solidified into a glossy silver cube, which floated in place. Gerren Skyflame, his five doubles now gone, strode forward to claim it.
A black blur streaked across his vision, plucking the item from the air as it passed. Skyflame shouted in surprise, a wall of magical white darts appearing in front of him and streaking in pursuit. Moments before the cloud of darts reached the sprinting form, it stopped. Kyra flashed the warlock a grin as the sharp magical weapons reached her. She simply turned sideways, leaning her head back slightly, and let the darts flash by on every side. As if in afterthought, she snatched the last one and twirled it in her fingers, then threw it back the way it had come, to shatter harmlessly on a shield that appeared in front of the spellcaster.
"Sorry, mister warlock, but I'm not allowed to let Talithin fall into enemy hands," she told Gerren with a wink, twirling the silvery cube on the end of one of her blade-tipped fingers. "Good show, though, very fun to watch!"
Skyflame gestured, and a web of blue magic flashed into being around Kyra, tightening even as it appeared. The girl giggled, and pushed off the ground, turning a neat backflip as she soared through a gap in the web before it became too small to fit through. Sticking her tongue out at the warlock, she waved at him and dashed off to the east. The warlock sent a final barrage of magical darts at her, but she simply dodged them as before, this time while running. Soon, she was out of sight, traveling faster than any racehorse, skirting the southern edge of the woods to the northeast of Roaning and leaving behind a severely ticked off warlock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Estia stared around her as she climbed into the druid's dwelling. The hollow was small, else it would weaken the tree's trunk, but there was space enough for two cots belonging to Nayn and his mentor, a small wooden table, and four chairs. Nayn, having preceded her into the small cavern, was lighting a lamp that rested on the table, casting warm light across the wooden walls of the druidic abode.
Standing at the back of the hollow was the green-clad druid, who watched quietly, saying nothing. Estia shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what she should do next. Nayn, finishing his task, rolled his eyes, casting a grin Estia's way. "Hey, old tree-head. Estia's waiting for you to introduce yourself." Estia was slightly shocked to hear him speak so irreverently to the famous druid, but the man's responding calm smile showed that he didn't take offense to being called "old tree-head." He bowed, and extended a thin, graceful hand. "My apologies. I do not often have visitors. I am Ranius, the keeper of these woods."
Estia shook the profferred hand carefully, a bit worried that the delicate-looking bones would break like twigs if she squeezed too hard, but she was instead surprised by the firmness and strength of Ranius's grip. He smiled again, apparently understanding her hesitation. "I am not so fragile as I look, young Estia."

He turned abruptly and strode to the opening of the hollow, gazing out into the woods. "There is a presence at the edge of my woods. You are being followed."
Estia gulped. "Yes. The Circle..." She glanced at Nayn, who was motioning emphatically for her to stop. The druid turned with a stern look. "Nayn, you know well that I do not like to become involved in the affairs of the world. Knowing this, why did you bring her here?"
Nayn straightened, a determined look on his face. "Because we're the only ones who can help her. I'm not letting her go out there to get captured or killed if bringing her here will prevent that." He returned the druid's gaze defiantly, daring his mentor to contradict him. The staring contest went on for several seconds, then the druid suddenly switched his gaze to Estia.
"You have been blessed by the forest nymphs. Only once before has anyone received such a recognition." The stern look did not relent, but Estia, taking her lead from Nayn, met the druid's gaze. A few more seconds passed, then the man's expression softened. "I have turned away many who have come here seeking refuge, but there is something different about you. The forest recognizes you as a friend, and as the forest's guardian and servant, so must I." He turned back to Nayn, the sudden gentleness never leaving his features. "Our guest is tired. She may rest here for as long as she desires, and those who seek her will not gain entry here. I will sleep among the boughs of the trees." With that, the man stepped from the hollow, descending the rope ladder.

"Wow. I've never heard old tree-head speak that many words to anyone but the trees... and maybe me, only I probably wasn't listening." Nayn's grin made Estia smile, too, until the expression was obliterated by a wide yawn. "He's not too used to being social, but I'm really glad he let you stay. It's the first time I've been able to persuade him of anything he didn't agree with." He gestured at the cot to Estia's left. "When he said he'll be sleeping in the treetops, he meant you can have his bed for as long as you stay here. He likes any excuse to go climbing trees, though, so don't think you're imposing."
Sleep sounded very good just then. Nodding at Nayn, Estia dropped her pack to the wooden floor next to the cot and collapsed onto the thin mattress of sewn-together leaves, not even bothering to take off her shoes. She was asleep a few seconds later. Nayn shook his head in wonderment. Just how long had she gone without sleep, anyways? He got the feeling that despite the forest nymph and his mentor's inexplicable agreement to let her stay with them, Estia was not yet done surprising him. He lay down on his cot and stared at the low ceiling, his mind too full of questions to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra sat in the boughs of a tree at the southern border of the forest, staring into the darkness to the north, one hand idly tossing the silvery cube into the air and catching it. "So this thing holds Talithin's spirit, hmm?" The girl smiled a carefree smile, watching the rise and fall of the bauble. Catching it after several tosses, she held it in her metal-clad palm. "Well, Talithin? Come out, talk to me."
A faint mist appeared above the branch in front of Kyra, slowly assembling into an incorporeal image of the sorceress, tattered blue dress and all. She gave Kyra a superior stare, something that struck the girl as extremely foolish. "I see that you have recovered me. Good. You will take me to the headquarters, where I shall be restored to my body. That warlock will know the meaning of true pain when--" Talithin stopped abruptly as Kyra held up a finger, the cube balanced on the pinpoint tip of the blade.
"Talithin?"
The sorceress scowled at Kyra's interruption, but raised an eyebrow.
"Do you suppose you can break this shield?"
Talithin's frown deepened, and she turned to the invisible barrier next to the tree in which Kyra sat. The shield was powerful, and its magic was foreign to her. Turning her frown upon Kyra, she sniffed disapprovingly. "Druidic spellcraft, if you can even call such things 'spells'. Nonetheless, I cannot break it. If I had my body, perhaps, but..."

Kyra was not listening, instead tapping the blade on one of her fingers against the barrier, producing a ringing sound like metal upon glass. "Hmm... Then I have no more use for you. Goodbye."
Talithin's eyes widened as Kyra's other hand, the blades of three fingers encircling the silver cube, tightened suddenly. The bauble shattered, and a bright light flashed. Talithin's image screamed, its misty substance shredding and scattering to the four winds. The sorceress's final wail trailed off as her spirit was lost to the abyss. Kyra smiled slightly, then resumed her tapping on the barrier. "I never did like her," she murmured absently to herself, staring through the druidic shield at the woods where she knew Estia now hid.